


Heal Me With Your Strength

by Blue_Night



Series: Masters And Boys [2]
Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Depression, Dom!Erik, Dom/sub-dynamics, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Struggles, M/M, Master/Boy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Spanking, Spoon-Feeding, Staying Behind, Vomiting, sub!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4521267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to 'Give Me What I Need', settled during the four weeks of the world championship 2014 and the following weeks.<br/>Marco had to stay behind because of his injury and is struggling with his hurt feelings, which finally culminates in eating disorders and Erik, his Master spoon-feeding him...</p><p>Part 2 of the journey of Master Erik and his three boys Jonas, Marco and Robert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marco: Four Lonely Weeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Half_Fallen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_Fallen/gifts).



> Dear Half_Fallen, I really don't know if this is what you wanted to read about those weeks Marco re-told Robert in GMWIN, but this is what my mind came up with. I hope that you will like it.  
> It is emotionally a challenge to write and I decided to split it in two chapters therefore. I don't know whether there will be explicit sexual content, but they surely will have their intimate moments in the next chapter.
> 
> Please, let me know what you think about it because it is a rather delicate topic and written in a way I have never tried before.

Your house is so empty. It is so fucking empty without him.

You wander aimlessly around, looking in every room although you of course know that Erik won't be there, just as if you wanted to torture yourself by looking for the one who could console you but knowing exactly that you won't find him.

Maybe, this is the reason why you do it.

Maybe, you will feel something – anything apart from the dull ache filling your head and your heart when you torture yourself by pretending that he will be there when you open the door to the next room even though it is quite clear from the start that he won't be there – can't be there.

Because the one you are so desperately searching is so far away.

He is on the other side of the world, on another continent.

There where you should be, too, together with you teammates and fighting against the other teams to finally, finally win the cup for Germany again.

To make your country, the country where you grew up and which you love so much the country of the world champions again – after more than twenty years.

He is there, where you want to be so badly, but aren't – in Brazil.

He – this is the young man who has won your heart by giving you what you need without even knowing that you needed exactly this, and by showing you who you truly are and what you've been craving for so long.

Erik, your Master.

The most astonishing and wonderful being walking on earth, handsome, kind and caring, but also strict and confident, the solid rock in your life.

The one you would need right now more than you ever needed anything else, because a careless asshole shattered your dreams within a few seconds by kicking your leg from underneath you, making you scream not only with the horrible pain of the injury but also with the agony of the realization that you would have to stay behind, watching your friends and teammates fight for the cup while you would have to struggle your way through the rehab and back on the pitch.

The one who'd rather have stayed with you as your loving Master but couldn't, because Erik is not only your caring and loving Master, but also a young man at the beginning of his own career as a football player, a career that is short enough without injuries and bad happenings and which can come to an abrupt end at any time, and you love him too much to ask him to miss this chance, just because you can't be there with him.

You would never have wanted your beloved Master to miss the chance of becoming a world champion with only twenty-two, no matter how hard it was to stay behind and say goodbye to him with a smile.

Only that you really wish right now that Erik had stayed with you because you need him so much, as selfish as this wish might be.

If you could only cry, maybe things would be easier then.

But, you can't. You wander through your horribly empty house, your throat so tight that it is hurting and choking you, but your eyes are dry.

The days go by with visits by the doctors of your beloved club and the rehab and the evenings go by with you sitting before the TV screen and watching the teams play and fight.

Your nights go by with lying awake and staring at the dark ceiling, feeling too numb and cold to even think or with wandering around in your empty house and looking into every empty and silent room for your Master who isn't there when you would need him the most.

Sometimes, you break the silence, your whisper almost inaudible in the warm air of your bedroom.

“Erik, my Master, I need you.”

Nothing is important any longer, neither sleeping, nor eating. You shower before you have to visit the doctors or go to the rehab, not really sure why you do it, maybe, because your mother told you every time she had to go the doctor with you when you were a young boy that one has to clean up themselves before seeing a doctor, but eating and sleeping is nothing you truly care about during the long and lonely weeks your friends are fighting for the cup.

You were never good in cooking and calling the delivery service is too much effort, and apart from that, you don't feel hungry, at all.

It is not as if you hadn't tried to eat, but the last times you ordered pizza or something from the Chinese restaurant not far away, you found yourself kneeling before the God of porcelain, puking your guts out and when it was over, you just lay before the toilet bowl on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor for more than one hour, shivering violently and too weak to get up again.

The only good thing about it was that you actually felt something afterwards, the burning in your throat and the painful spasm of your empty stomach distracting you from the dull ache exhausting you more than any straining training lesson has ever exhausted you.

You're not doing it on purpose, because vomiting isn't your favorite pastime and certainly will never be, but sometimes, when the strong urge to feel alive again for a couple of hours overwhelms you, you empty the fridge, gobbling down whatever is within your reach until you feel sick and the retching is somewhat freeing and relieving as running until you broke down because you couldn't stay on your feet any longer always was. Maybe, you would feel better if you could run, but the damn injury took even that away from you.

You eat chips and chocolate while you're watching TV or in the night when you can't sleep and some of your friends always joked that beer can replace a meal, so it can't be too bad to drink a few bottles of beer instead of eating a meal you probably couldn't keep down anyways, can it?

No one is there to tell you off and you are sure that everything will go back to normal when Erik will finally be with you again.

Only that it doesn't. Because something happens you might have hoped for to happen, but never really expected to actually happen.

**

It is Sunday, the 13th July 2014.

Germany has reached the final of the world championship by humiliating the hosts of the world championship in their own country with scoring 7 : 1.

Marcel, your best friend wanted to come over to watch the final with you, but you told him that you want to be alone and after one look at you, Marcel hesitantly agreed, hugging you before leaving your house and you alone with your misery.

Erik has called you and texted you every single day of the four weeks he was in Brazil, short calls and messages because he hardly has time on his own, and he has tried hard to keep his excitement at bay and console the beloved boy you are for him as best as he could, considering the distance of several thousand kilometers separating you, and you are proud of yourself that you managed to keep your voice and your own messages carefree and reassuring that you are fine and that there's nothing your Master would have to worry about.

This is what you tell yourself the entire time, so it isn't a lie, at all, isn't it?

You hadn't truly thought that your teammates would make it to the final, because no European team has ever won the cup on another continent than Europe and the mere thought of Germany reaching the final in Brazil of all countries was somehow ridiculous.

Only that it isn't ridiculous any longer, at all.

Because it truly happened. Germany shot Brazil, the record-winner of the world-championship out of the contest and is now only one step away from crowning itself.

Without you.

You sit before the screen, watching your teammates struggling their way against Argentina into the overtime, feeling as if you were watching yourself watching the final from somewhere outside your body.

Your beloved Master doesn't play, but, your former boyfriend and soulmate on the pitch, Mario Götze does after being substituted for Miroslav Klose in the 88th minute.

It's not as if you would begrudge Mario being there in Brazil and playing the last minutes of the final. You broke up a long time before Erik became your Master and now, you know why your love had to fail, because Mario is meant to be somebody else's boy just like you are and two submissive boys can't be happy together without a strong Master taking care of them.

You watch the game with the critical eyes of a professional footballer, considering the options and the chances of your country – your teammates – to hold their nerves during the most likely penalty shootout when it happens.

It is the 113th minute of the final and you watch your former soulmate and beloved Sunny shoot a goal.

The goal.

Mario Götze, twenty-two years old and one of Germany's best young players – if not the best – has shot the goal that will make your country – your team world champions after fucking long twenty-four years.

Your former lover has shot the goal and sit here in your lonely and empty house before the TV screen, knowing that this was it. Your chance, the chance you have missed in the very last minute. What a bad timing.

You are not there to celebrate with them. You won't lift the cup with them into the air, shouting and laughing and you won't bend your head to receive the gold-medal you could show your friends and family afterwards, wallowing in the memory of this oh so special moment.

They will come home as celebrated champions, but you won't be one of them.

Your beloved Master will be a champion with twenty-two, but you won't be a champion with twenty-five. You missed your chance and you have to live with that.

Because an asshole knocked your leg from underneath you just before you were supposed to climb into the plane that would bring you to Brazil with your friends, with 'die Mannschaft'.

You are sitting here alone in your living room, watching your teammates running and fighting through the last about ten minutes that stretch to an eternity.

When the referee finally blows the whistle and you are sure that your team has made it, you switch off the TV screen.

You stare at the dark screen, flinching by the sound of your own voice.

“Erik, my Master, please, I need you.”

It is more a whimper than a whisper and you wonder briefly about the wetness on your cheeks.

This is when you finally start to cry.


	2. Marco: Three Weeks In Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The World Championship is over and Erik, Marco's new Master is back. But, things aren't getting better. Quite the opposite, they are getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Half_Fallen, here is the chapter I promised you for this weekend. Imagine me singing 'Happy Birthday' to you on Sunday, please. :-*
> 
> This chapter was surprisingly easy to write after I had struggled for months because of all the loose threads I suddenly had to knot together because 'Give Me What I Need' was never meant to become a series like it did afterwards - just like it was with the Trifels. Others wouldn't care about staying in the plotline, but I do, and the hardest part for me was to explain why Marco fell in love with Erik, accepted him as his Master and yet didn't let him take him. I think that I found the best explanation possible in this chapter.  
> This chapter has hardly any dialogue and I don't think that it needs that. This chapter is mostly about getting in Marco's head and explain the happenings that escalated in Erik finding him passed out in the park and starting to spoon-feed him afterwards. I tried to show that their relationship was still so new for both of them after Brazil and that it was nowhere near the established and strong bond they have in GMWIN, TMWYW, SMWYL and TMWYH. In fact, this should be the first part of the series if you only consider the timeline, but, it is the fifth part for good reason. (I didn't count 'The Lesson' to that, of course, because it has nothing to do with the other five parts of the Master And Boys-series).  
> I had planned 2 chapters, but, as always, I had to change plans and this part will have three or maybe four chapters.  
> The next chapters will contain much more interaction with Erik and much more dialogue, but, this chapter had to be written this way and I hope that it will be a proper birthday gift for you, my dear.
> 
> My dear readers, if you like my Master and Boys-series and haven't voiced that before: please, leave feedback, kudos and comments. It is hardly possible to write such a work like this one or the other parts of the series without getting feedback. If you want me to continue and / or write more parts, than let me know. Hits alone are not enough. I will finish this part because it is a gift work, but, I haven't decided whether I will finish 'Show Me What You Love' and 'Trust Me With Your Heart'. If you like these works, than please, let me know. I got a lot of bad attacks and criticism for my Dom/sub-universe here in this football fandom and even though I decided to write for it again, I am still not sure about the Master and Boys-series, so please tell me if you want me to continue.
> 
> Those of you who like to read about Dom/sub and BDSM and are open for original works: Dark Nights which I post under my pseud Nightflower contains this topic and it will go much deeper into it than I will ever go here in the football fandom with living people.

He is back.

Erik, your Master is finally back. You offered to pick him up from the airport, but he told you that he didn't want the first moment you would eventually be reunited again taking place in public and you had no strength to argue about that, secretly being glad that he made this decision for you just like a strong Master should do.

He is your Master and you will do what he tells you to do, hoping that he knows what's actually best for you.

And this is the problem. That you're only _hoping_ that he will know it. Only six weeks ago, you would have _believed_ that he knows it.

Now, after you having missed the World Championship while he is a world champion now without even having played in one match has turned your strong faith and trust in your Master into doubts and cautious hopes.

It is not as if you would bear a grudge against him because he is a world champion, no. You love him far too much to be that selfish and you are really happy for him and proud of him. You really are, aren't you? At least you hope that you are not that selfish to begrudge him his success.

Because, you simply know that _you_ would have become a world champion by playing with the others. You know that you could even have been in Mario's place, shooting this so important goal and being the one making the difference. You know that and you know that he knows that, too.

Your only hope is that you will be able to hide these thoughts and feelings from him as you hear the key turning in the lock of your front door. You know that you shouldn't hide them from your Master, and maybe you wouldn't think of it if you had been together for much longer before a stupid asshole shattered all of your dreams into a million pieces, but, as things stand, you'll have to do it because you were together only for a couple of weeks, and you don't know him well enough to not hide them.

You know the footballer Erik Durm of course. You probably know him better than your Master Erik Durm and you think that the footballer Erik Durm perhaps might be able to understand you. But, you don't know if the knowledge the footballer would gain by your confession will influence your Master's behavior and you can't risk that. You love him and you want to be strong and not disappoint him. You can't risk losing him because of such a confession and you also can't admit your ambiguous emotions. You can't hardly admit them to yourself and some things are simply too painful to say them out loud and share them with anyone, especially not the ones you love. That is stupid and not wise and you know that, but, it is human and you still are a human even though you might not feel like a human being at this time.

You're telling yourself that everything will be fine again, now that your Master is back to take care of you and when you feel his strong arms wrapping themselves around you, pulling you close while his tender lips travel over your blotchy and sleep-deprived face, you almost believe your own words, clinging to the only hope that is still left for you:

He is back and everything will get better from now on.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Only that it doesn't. Not the least.

Of course, you are so happy to have your Master back. He is your strong frame and you are finally capable to get at least a few hours of sleep when he holds you in his arms during the hot summer nights. Everybody else you know would ask their partners to not hold them and stay as far away as possible while sharing the same bed, because it is far too hot to be held, but, you don't seem to get warm these days and you're always freezing in the nights. Erik's strong arms keep this horrible cold at bay so you can relax enough to fall asleep and get some rest. Your sleep is still fitful and far from being truly restorative, but, it is sleep, nonetheless and this is much more than you had during the last four weeks.

But, there are other things he can't do for you and you know that it is your own fault.

Erik is a kind but strict Master and you were always impressed by his strong will and his self-confidence. Erik seems to always know what to do and what's best for you. At least this was the case before he left for Brazil while you had to stay at home.

After his return, it seems that he has lost a little bit of his strength and his self-confidence. It is the little things that show you that and make you even more uncertain about yourself, about him and about your new relationship with your first Dom ever than you were before.

Before Brazil, you weren't allowed to touch him without asking for permission. You had to ask him, no matter whether you were feeling well or down, and you cherished each touch, each kiss and each embrace more than anything.

After his return, he told you that you can touch him if you need to without asking beforehand for the next three weeks.

At first, you were happy about it and touched your wonderful Master as oftentimes as you could, embracing him, laying your head upon his shoulder and stealing kisses from him.

At first, it comforted you, for the time you were close and for some minutes after you had let go of him again, sometimes even half an hour or so. But, the comfort you drew out of your many touches faded more and more, even in the moments you touched him. You tried to get that feeling back by touching him almost all of the time, but, it didn't came back and after a while, you touched him less and less again.

Erik only considered you, but said nothing, and you thought that he might be glad about you touching him less again. Maybe, his feelings for you begin to change, now that he is a world champion and you are not? Maybe, he doesn't love you any longer, at least no as much as he did before Brazil?

You're bending over the toilet again while you muse about your Master's feelings. He left you for a short time to run some needed errands and you used the opportunity to get some comfort by gobbling down one liter of chocolate ice cream, only to run straight to the bathroom afterwards, puking your guts out again for the umpteenth time since you became injured. Your stomach clenches by the mere thought of Erik loving you less, and when you're finally done with vomiting and heaving dryly, vomiting and heaving again and again, you lie before the toilet, covered with cold sweat, silent tears streaming out of your bloodshot eyes and all over your swollen and blotchy face.

“Erik, my Master, please, don't leave me,” you sob, but, he is still away and doesn't hear you crying.

When he comes back, you have managed to erase most of the traces of your breakdown, you showered and ventilated the rooms, you brought the empty package of the ice cream to the garbage bin outside your house and you plastered a cheerful grin on your face. You couldn't do anything against your bloodshot eyes, but you hope that he won't notice that they are redder than usual these days.

Erik looks at you and his face is unreadable as he asks you: “Is everything okay, Marco?”

Maybe, you would tell him the truth if he had called you 'boy', but, he called you by your first name and so you only force your mouth to curl into this fake of a true smile and say: “Yes, Erik, I'm fine, thank you.”

The other thing you would need and which your Master doesn't do is claiming you the way every good Master should claim their boys. You know that it is your own fault and you are torn between your gratitude that he accepted your request back then when he took you as his boy and your unjustified anger of him that he doesn't insist of yet doing it, no matter what you said months ago or not.

It is not that simple of course and you know that.

You were once crazy in love with Mario. It was before you knew about your own submissive nature and you did your best to be the strong one for Mario who is probably even more submissive than you are.

In your relationship with Mario, you were always the one being on top. You couldn't even imagine to bottom for him and Mario never asked you. That wasn't the reason why your relationship didn't work out though, oh no. One can be a sub and yet top, that wasn't the issue. But, two subs can't live together, be happy together without a strong Dom guiding them, keeping them together and working and you hadn't had a strong Dom.

When Ann-Kathrin entered Mario's life, it was already too late for the two of you and apart from that, you are absolutely not into women. Ann-Kathrin is a wonderful Domme, you were affected by her strong dominant aura even though you prefer men, and she is really the perfect Mistress for Mario. In fact, she was actually the one making you realize that you are a sub like Mario, but, she couldn't be the Domme for both of you and your relationship broke and Mario moved to Munich. You still miss him as your soulmate on the pitch and you probably still have some feelings for him, but, you let him go and you unconsciously started to search for the strong Dom you need to be fulfilled after he left.

You would never have thought that Erik Durm, the young and so innocent looking defender would be your strong and kind Master one day and at the beginning, you missed the signals he sent out, not necessarily in your direction, but he must have sent them for a rather long time.

Only that you were too occupied with falling for another handsome footballer you mistook for a Dom at first to notice Erik's subtle signals he was sending in your direction. Robert Lewandowski is a natural born leader on the pitch like you are. He has this aura and you were close friends and had this chemistry between you right from the start.

Not to mention how attractive he is with his blue eyes, handsome features and his perfect body. You fell for him before you even knew what had happened and you could sense that he desired you, as well. He tried to suppress it and not act on it, but, he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Robert was the first man you could imagine to bottom for him and after a while, you were literally obsessed by this thought. Robert would be your first man and only him, you swore to yourself.

Therefore, it took you a while to realize that he is as submissive when it comes to his private life as you are and it almost crashed you again. You knew that it wouldn't work out like it hadn't worked out with Mario, and your friendship with him was too precious for you to act on your desire and risk losing his friendship for a few sexual encounters that couldn't be really fulfilling without a strong Dom. You still wanted Robert to be the man taking your virginity, but, you knew that you had to find your Dom, your loving Master before this dream could ever come true.

The realization that the young and innocent defender Erik Durm was the Master you had been searching for for so long was almost earth-shaking and you couldn't believe your luck that he wanted to be your Master as much as you wanted to be his boy.

But, there were still your feelings for Robert and your oath that Robert would be your first man some day, and you really thought that Erik would be angry with you and leave you after your confession.

He didn't.

He listened to you and then, he took you in his arms and told you that he respected your wish and accepted your feelings for another man as long as he would be a sub like you and not another Dom. He told you that he had known about Robert's submissive nature right from the beginning and that he could imagine Robert being his boy some day, too, and that he would try to fulfill your dream.

You were so grateful for his understanding and you loved him even more for it. But now, after your world turned upside down and everything is a mess, you would need your Master to take you, to fill this emptiness deep inside you. You are torn between your oath and your wish to Robert still being your first man and your wish to be claimed by your Master the right way. You feel angry and frustrated that your Master doesn't decide for you and just take you like he should, although this would mean to break the promise he gave to you, something Erik would never do.

You know that you are unfair and that being his boy doesn't mean that he has the right to force himself upon you, and you know that you probably would hate it and maybe even hate him if he really tried that, but, you can't help feeling hurt and somehow rejected, nevertheless.

The most important thing about each healthy Dom/sub-relationship is respect and the free will to submit and dominate and that abusing power can never be a part of it, but, you are so unsure and your world is still shattered into pieces, and all you crave for is your Master making it whole again.

You only have no clue how he should do it and you also don't know if your Master knows it and this is the worst thing about it.

You lie next to him after your scenes, your body satisfied and heavy with tiredness and pleasant exhaustion, but, your heart still aches and bleeds and your mind races. You lie next to him and you realize that you are too damaged and too hurt to be ready for anyone taking your virginity, and this might be the reason why Erik never even mention this topic during those awful and horrible three weeks after his return. Yet, you are not sure whether it _is_ the true reason for Erik not even trying to claim you, or if your Master is just too oblivious to notice your inner battles and struggles, and this makes you angry again.

When you are sure that he is sleeping the slumber of exhaustion, you silently get up, wandering around in your dark house, and you know that it is only a question of time until you'll find yourself in the kitchen again, emptying your fridge until you feel sick and stumble into the guest toilet, far away enough from your bedroom so that Erik won't hear you vomiting.

During the days, when you're having breakfast, lunch and dinner together, you're pushing your food from one side to the other, unable to swallow it down and you can feel your Master's eyes upon you, musing and worried, but, he says nothing to you hardly eating anything nourishing during the three weeks after his return from Brazil. He obviously wants to give you some more time and you really want to be his good boy and eat what he cooks for you, but, you simply can't, an invisible big hand choking you every time you stuff the fork with the delicious food into your mouth.

Each next day you hope that this will change – that you will change - and that you will be able to pick up the life you had before Brazil, but, nothing changes, not the next day and not the day after the next day.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

You know that it can't go on like this and of course, it doesn't. It comes to an end when the three weeks he allowed you to touch whenever you need to touch him are almost over. You hardly touched him anymore, only waiting for him to make the first move and touch you, just as if you wanted to see that he still desires and loves you. Unfortunately, Erik isn't the touchy kind of Master. He does touch you and every time he does, his touch is tender and full of love, but, you still doubt that he really loves you and you start to argue and fight with him about everything and nothing, hoping to get a passionate reaction from him that would prove his love instead of his reasonable way to show you that you're wrong.

One evening, you have your first really big quarrel about something stupid. Erik asked you to take a walk with him, your foot finally well enough to do that, but, you don't want to leave the house and your answer is really not appropriate. You tell him to fuck of and leave him alone and after a long silence, Erik does exactly that, taking his jacket and his key and leaving your house without saying one more word.

The hours go by and finally, you can't take it any longer. You leave your house, too, buying two six-packs of beer and chips in one of those small shops near the park and then, you sit down on one of the benches in the dark and empty park, starting to empty the bottles and stuffing chips into your mouth like a robot. Your mind is blank and your heart is numb and you don't care about what's right and what's wrong anymore.

Erik, your Master has left you because you told him to leave and you are sure that he won't come back to you again. Why the heck should he? He is a celebrated world champion, he is young, smart and good-looking, and he can have everything he wants and most of all, everyone he wants. There are so many handsome submissive boys waiting for him to claim them, why should he bother about the boy who missed the World Championship because of an asshole who knocked the feet out from underneath him? Why should Erik bother about a boy who isn't able to not mess up his own life afterwards?

He is so much better than you will ever be and there is nothing left for you after _he_ left you.

You lift the next bottle to your mouth and you don't care if you will die here sitting alone on this bench in the park or maybe see the sun rising again tomorrow. All you care about is to silence the scornful voice in your head whispering “Loser, you're such a loser, Marco!” like a stuck gramophone record all over again and again, and you still hope that the next sip or the next bottle will make you not hearing this voice any longer.

That's the only hope you still have after your Master has left you because _you_ sent him away.


	3. Erik: Seven Days Of Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco told Erik to leave him alone. He sits on the bench in the dark park, trying to forget his existence by drinking. Will Erik find him before it is too late? And what will he do afterwards?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Half_Fallen, happy birthday to you! :-*
> 
> Imagine me singing that to you. I wish you a wonderful birthday and I decided to gift you with another chapter to your anniversary. This chapter might not be something one should get for their birthdays, but, I hope that you will do appreciate it. I promise you that things will become much better in the next chapter(s) again. They have reached the bottom and it can only get up from this point. 
> 
> My dear readers, thank you so much for your incredible feedback to the last chapter. Please, keep it up and leave the same amazing feedback under this one. Tell me with kudos and comments if I managed to transfer Erik's feelings and his struggles to you the way I managed to do with Marco's. Stories like this one are impossible to finish without feedback, that much I can tell you for sure.
> 
> You might have noticed that I changed the chapter titles. The first two chapters were about Marco and his demons, this and the next one (two) will be about Erik. I thought that I owed him to show his struggles and worries the same way I showed the ones of his boy. Please remember how young Erik still was back then in summer 2014 and that his first relationship with Jonas broke up in a bad way. Of course, he couldn't be as strong and self-confident, as certain about himself as he was in GMWIN, TMWYW, SMWYL and TMWYH. He was together with Marco only for a couple of months before Brazil and I can tell you from my own experiences that dealing with a partner suffering from a bad depression is really really hard.  
> I write my Dom/sub-stories by instinct and by what I think is the right and natural way and not because I have own experiences. I don't know if I managed to portray Erik as Marco's Dom the right way in this chapter, I simply wrote what I think could be what he went through himself, torn between his own hurt emotions and his attempts to be the strong Master Marco needs him to be without faltering. There is also a part with pretty rough language Marco uses. I normally don't write things this way, but, I felt it more important to show that they really have reached the bottom than to smoothe it out for my own sake. Please be aware that I normally don't write such things, but I do believe that it was needed here. I tried to stay as appropriate as possible.
> 
> Please, tell me what you think of this chapter, leave comments and kudos, your feedback is more improtant than ever!

You've really fucked it up.

Again.

You wander through the empty streets bathed in the red light of the setting sun, musing about what went wrong this time. It's the second time that your boy told you to fuck off and you wonder how this could happen for the second time within a couple of months.

Neither of them did it because they didn't love you any longer, that much you know for sure.

But, this is the only thing you are sure about at this time, and you hate the feeling of being that split and uncertain about what happened and what you did wrong, doubting not only your actions but also your ability to be a good Master for your boy.

You hate the feeling of being that uncertain about yourself and your natural skills and abilities of being a good Master for your boys and this confuses you as nothing has ever confused you before.

You always knew that you are born to be the strict and yet kind and loving Master for your boy, it is simply in your blood. It is what defines you and everything you do. It is nothing you _want_ to do or to be. Being the Master of your boy is what you _need_ to be. As much as you need to eat and to sleep – to breathe. You realized that you wanted be that Master for the boy you love almost right from the start when you fell in love for the first time and you waited patiently for your sweetheart to realize that he needed you to be more than only his boyfriend.

You are aware that people normally mistake your innocent and boyish looks and your young age for you being the one who would need a strong Master and guidance, but, they couldn't be further from the truth. You know exactly who you are and what you are and you accepted yourself and your true nature a long time ago.

But, something went wrong again and here you walk, alone in the dawn, trying to figure out what it was – why Marco sent you away like your first boy did.

You didn't give your boys what they wanted all of the time, but, you always gave them what they needed, what they craved for and you always gave them your unquestioning love.

Yet, they sent you away. Your first boy did so and your second boy did so tonight, as well.

Suddenly, you furiously kick against the innocent stone lying a few centimeters away from your left foot on the pavement. “Damn it, Marco, I gave you the time you needed. I know what you've been through. I even allowed you to touch me whenever you needed to touch me...” you growl just to stop in the middle of your sentence.

You facepalm yourself. God, you were so dense! You didn't give your boy what he needed, you took from him what _you_ needed during the last three weeks. You thought that you would give him what he wanted from you, but, you did all of that more for yourself than for him. The last weeks threw you off the track as much as it threw him off the track, and you didn't even realize how much Marco's injury affected not only him, but also you. Or maybe you did realize it but you didn't want to see it, because your reaction to Marco's injury was all about emotions and not about reason.

Because you had such a bad conscience for having been in Brazil while he wasn't.

Because you still have a bad conscience.

You told yourself that he needed the comfort of being allowed to touch you whenever he wanted to, but if you're completely honest to yourself, you must admit that you only allowed him to touch you to reassure yourself that he still loves you the way he loved you before Brazil separated you. Because you feared that he could hate you for having been there and now being a world champion without having even played one match while he had to stay behind.

You really hate yourself for one moment. You hate yourself for questioning Marco's love for you. You hate yourself for having thought for even one second that your wonderful boy could begrudge you your success and hate you for that, something Marco would never do.

Marco is the kindest and sweetest boy walking on Earth and he isn't capable to have such feelings, because they are simply not in his heart and his soul. You should have trusted him and most of all, you should have trusted yourself and your instincts. Plus, you really should have done what's right instead of letting your bad conscience take over and rule your actions.

Marco lost his own trust and faith in you because of that and you are the only one to blame for his behavior. Yes, he didn't behave like that good boy he always was for you, he hid things from you and he hid his true feelings from you, but, it is your own fault that he did and you won't punish him for that.

Of course, you have noticed the eating disorder he has developed. You know that he gulped down food in the middle of the night instead of eating what you cooked for him, and you also heard him vomiting. You wanted to give him the time to deal with that alone, but not for his sake, but for your own sake.

Because, as strong as you might be, but, you're also still quite young and you weren't sure if being too strict would maybe increase his depression. Now you know that you reached the opposite from what you wanted to reach and it is up to you to fix things and be the strong and strict Master he needs you to be for him, now more than ever.

You turn around on your heels, ready to go back and take over your responsibility again.

Your first boy sent you away and you left him because you sensed that it was for the better for him at this time. You still have the slight hope that you will be able to win him back some day, but, that's not important right now.

What is important to you is your wonderful blond boy, the one who sent you away not because he wanted you to leave but because this was his way of crying for help. Telling you to fuck off was his way to tell you that he needs you and you won't make the same mistake twice.

This time, you won't fail your boy again. This time you will stay by his side and be his strong and loving Master, just like you should be.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

You watch your boy sleep in your bed, his face white like snow with a green underlayer, his breathing uneven and ragged even though he is sound asleep, actually more unconscious than really sleeping.

You sit on the edge of the bed, stroking rhythmically his damp hair, and your heart aches for what you'll have to tell him when he will be awake again and sober enough to listen to you and understand your words instead of only hear them.

Of course, Marco will consider them as your way to punish him, but, he couldn't be further from the truth. You would never punish your boy when you were the one failing him. You would never punish your boy for what he did because his depression made him do or say what he did and said. Your wonderful boy needs your help and not your punishment. But, you have the strong suspicion that he will consider the consequences you have to draw out of the happenings during the last weeks as a punishment, nevertheless and you can only hope that he will understand your decisions some day.

Marco groans in his sleep and he lifts his head up from the pillow as another bout of nausea pulls him out of his unconscious state roughly and far too early.

You hold the bucket for him you have brought when you came back from the bathroom after putting him to bed, together with a wet washcloth and towels. There is nothing left in his stomach, but the dry heaves must be painful and your warm hand is a solid and strong weight on his cold and sweaty forehead, telling him better than words could ever do that you are there for him and that you won't go anywhere as long as he needs you.

You murmur soothing words that make no sense while he retches, but, the words are not important, only the tenderness of your voice, and Marco is still too drunk and sick to pay attention to what you're saying. You are there, this is all he needs to know and your soft murmur finally soothes him enough that the vomiting stops again.

You wipe his face with the washcloth, wetting his dry and split lips because you fear that he will vomit again if he drinks anything right now, hoping that he will keep some tea down in a couple of hours. Right now, sleep is much more important and you stroke him until his breathing evens and he slips into the blissful state of velvet darkness again.

There is almost nothing in the bucket and you wait until you are sure that he won't need it for the next few minutes before you clean it in the bathroom and carry it back into the bedroom. You know that others would be disgusted by such things, but you could never be disgusted when your beloved boy needs you, and you have watched him struggling on his own far too long. You didn't hold his head during the three weeks when he was vomiting, but not because of the disgust others would have felt, but because you respected his privacy. He hid it from you and you respected that for the false reasons like you realized tonight – far too late, but you realized it at least and you won't leave him alone and go through this on his own again.

After you came home tonight, ready to tell him what you had figured out when you were walking for hours, you couldn't find him and you were worried within an instant, knowing that something was seriously wrong. You called Marcel, not really wanting to involve someone else, but, Marcel is his childhood friend and still knows him better than you do sometimes. Marcel told you that Marco would most likely to be found somewhere in the park, offering his help. You thanked him and promised him to call him if you couldn't manage on your own before heading towards the park, praying that you would find your boy there.

You did and you hated yourself again the moment you saw him, lying on the bench, almost passed out and covered in his own vomit. He hadn't drunk that much, but, his eating disorder had boosted the effect of the beer and his upset stomach had tried to get rid of the alcohol. To your luck, he could walk with your help, because he might have lost weight, but, he is still a tall and rather heavy grown up man and being his Master doesn't mean that you can carry your boy the whole way back, as much as you might wish that you could double or triple your physical strength and carry him.

You walked home with him, half carrying half pulling him, and when you were back in the safety of your home, you cleaned him up and put him to bed without even thinking of being disgusted. He wasn't in the state of doing it himself and you have left him struggling on his own for far too long.

You will never ever forget what it means to be the Dom for such a wonderful boy, and this is the promise you gave yourself you cling to while you watch him sleeping off his drunkenness, knowing that the hardest part of what you will have to do will come afterwards, when he is awake and sober again.

You know that there will be fighting during the next days and you inwardly steel yourself for these forthcoming fights. You love him and he loves you, and together you will get through it, no matter what, won't you?

At least you hope that you will and hope is the last thing to die you tell yourself over and over again while you watch him sleep, waiting for him to wake up and listen to what you have to tell him.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

“Pardon me? You're kidding me, right?” Marco stares at you, his face still white like snow, his eyes horribly bloodshot and his hands trembling, but, his gaze is sharp and focused again and you know that he understood you quite well.

He sits on the chair at the kitchen table while you're leaning against the counter, your arms crossed before your chest and your face controlled and calm.

“You heard me quite well, boy. You are not allowed to drink or eat anything apart from what I'll feed you with with my own hand. Nothing. Not even water,” you repeat your words and Marco's eyes shoot amber-golden fire at you.

You know that you should be angry because he is defiant and doesn't want to obey, but, you are far too happy to finally see sparks in his wonderful eyes again, those wonderful eyes that were dead and lusterless for weeks. If it is defiance that brings the sparks back, then so be it for the start. Anything that will help him fight against his depression is fine with you.

Not that you will tell him that, oh no, you've learned your lesson the hard way.

“You can't be serious, Erik! I'm not a child that needs to be spoon-fed!” he hisses and you have to hide your content smile. God, how you love seeing him like this, his pale cheeks reddening with his anger and his eyes glowing golden now. There is life in his face and his movements as he shifts his weight on the chair and you are so grateful to catch a glimpse of your wonderful boy, of the Marco he was before a stupid asshole shattered all of his dreams – and yours.

Instead of showing him how happy you are about this change in his behavior, you raise a strict eyebrow at him. “Do I look to you as if I were kidding, boy?”

Marco averts his gaze, staring defiantly out of the window. “No, you don't.”

“I'm relieved to hear that. If things were different, I would simply ask you to promise me to respect my decision and stay away from all food that's in this house, but, as things stand right now, I can't risk that. I don't blame you, Marco. It's my own fault. I noticed your food disorder and I wanted to give you the time to deal with alone, but, I was wrong with that.” You closely watch his reaction to your confession and you can see that the admission of your own mistakes catches him off guard and by surprise.

His face softens a little bit and the defiance vanishes. “It wasn't your fault, Erik,” he says in an attempt to console you and your heart clenches with the love you feel for him. Marco is such a wonderful young man, wanting to console you because he loves you even after you told him that he isn't allowed to eat on his own.

“Yes, it was, Marco and I won't weasel myself out of my responsibility with stupid excuses. I was weak and not the strong Master you needed me to be for you, but, I will be your strong Master in the future and you will do what I'll tell you to do because I know better what's good for you than you know it yourself, understood?”

The defiance crawls back into his amber-green eyes and he shoots you a hurt look and a pout, but nods his head. “Understood, Master,” he snarls and you sigh inwardly, knowing that the fighting has begun.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

It is worse than you would have imagined at the start. The next days are an endless array of fighting and struggling and arguing.

You wouldn't have thought of how much Marco hates it to be fed by your hand. You knew that you had to be careful and you started with light meals, rusk and soup and tea to settle his stomach, and you decided that six light meals during the days would be the best for him. You know a lot about cooking and nutrients and you did your best to make his meals as eatable and delicious as possible while seeing to the nutrients he really needs.

The effect is breathtaking. His skin becomes rosy and his face doesn't look as sunken and hollow as it did any longer. His hair regains back its golden shimmer and his swaying because of the permanent dizziness and nausea he must have felt all of the time stops.

Marco looks so much better after only two days and you should be proud and happy about that like you thought you would be, but the constant fighting drains you, completely.

Marco hates what you are doing and sometimes you think that he hates you. You know that it is because of his depression, but it is hard to bear, nonetheless. He fights against each fork and each spoon and when you notice that he tries to play tricks on you, you stay with him literally twenty-four hours a day, hardly sleeping anymore because you fear that he will sneak out of your bedroom in the middle of the night. After the third night, you are so worn out that you drag him to the hardware store to buy locks for the kitchen cupboards. Marco watches you attaching them to his cabinets with his arms folded before his chest, not even offering to help you.

You know better than to ask him for help.

In your current situation, you would have to fear that he keeps one of the keys to himself and you won't risk that. You might be a strong Master, but damn it, you are human and you really need to sleep at least a couple of hours during the night again. Your hands are shaking because you are so tired and you want to yell at him, but, you don't. He is still recovering and you are so happy about every little step forward that you can't bring yourself to telling him off and showing him how much you hate what you're doing to him yourself. You don't want to show him how much he hurts you with his defiance because you fear that his eyes will lose their sparks again if you'll do.

“Where are you going?” you ask when he starts off to leave the kitchen.

Marco stops, narrowing his eyes. “To the restroom. Do I need your permission to relieve myself, Master?” he spits out. “Shall I hold back until you graciously allow me to piss and to shit? I strongly recommend you to not do that, because I am suffering from a bad diarrhea because of your feeding. Or maybe, you want to watch me while I'm shitting?” he adds in a fluting tone and you can't hide your flinch. Marco never used such words when he was alone with you before, and you know that he does it only to provoke you.

You climb from the ladder and shake your head. “No, I won't watch you, boy but, I will make sure that you haven't hidden food or soft drinks there.” You pass him without looking at him, walking to the guest-restroom. You never felt that stupid and bad before like you feel now, opening the cupboards over the and under the sink, but, you'll do it with a blank face.

Marco leans in the door, silently watching you checking the toilet. “I really need to use the toilet, Master, now!” he finally says and you turn around to look at him.

“You don't have to fear that I'll come watching you, but you won't lock the door, boy. You're still not well enough and I don't want having to kick in the door in case something's wrong with you!” you tell him, carefully controlling your voice.

Oh God, can things become even worse? When did your wonderful loving relationship turned into so much hate, suppressed anger and helplessness?

Marco salutes mockingly. “Understood, sir!” he snarls and you leave him before you'll say something you surely will regret afterwards.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

You wouldn't have believed it, but things actually become worse. You have to control him when he brushes his teeth because one evening, he tries to circumvent your strict order by drinking water uncontrollably just to protest and to provoke you and of course, the cold water he gulped down comes back right away again, together with the dinner you had forced into him with the fork, the spoon and your fingers.

You kneel next to him before the toilet, tired to your bones while you hold his head as he pukes his guts out; and all you want to do is yell at him that you're only trying to help him. Can't he really see what it is doing to you, as well? That you hate it as much as he hates it?

You are his Master, you love him more than anything, but, you are not a damn therapist and you really do your best! The best you can do without being a therapist, that is. He is so much better than he was, why the hell can't he see it himself?

This night, you sleep separated from each other, he on the one side of the bed near the edge and you on the other side of the bed near the edge for the first time since you came together. You always loved to touch him and hold him during his sleep, but tonight, the thought of touching him makes you feel sick yourself.

The morning after that night you found him passed out on that bench, you told him that he has to ask for permission again if he wants to touch you. He didn't ask you one single time for the last six days and the only times you touched him were when you fed him and sometimes during the days when you sensed that he really needed your touch. He hugged you back, gladly despite your fights, but, he never asked you to hold him out of himself and you lived together more like friends than like the couple you actually are. Feeling him close during the night consoled you as much as it consoled him, especially because he is not in the state to have sex these days.

But not tonight. You don't embrace him and he doesn't ask you to do it, even though you can feel the trembling of the mattress because of the heavy chills wrecking him from head to toe after his sickness.

You listen to the clattering of his teeth, feeling numb and raw inside and the horrible sounds he makes with his clattering teeth finally lulls you into sleep, haunting you in your nightmares until it is time to get up again and endure another day of fighting, the seventh day in a row.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

If someone asked you how you made it through this seventh day, all you could answer them is that you don't have a bloody clue.

You sit in the kitchen again and you actually wonder why your boy hasn't tried to bite you so far. This would be the last straw and show you that you have reached the bottom, but, Marco hasn't bitten you until now and you probably should be thankful for that.

You aren't. You almost wish that he would try it. It would be better than the looks he gifts you with while he opens his mouth with obvious disgust for your spoon and your fork.

Your hand trembles slightly as you carefully push the fork inside his mouth. He snaps it close, chews and swallows, and before you have the chance to feed him with the next bite, he pulls away and looks at you, his eyes glowing in a dangerous golden light piercing you as he asks the one question you would never have awaited coming from your sweet blond boy, his voice as hateful as it has never been before:

“Tell me, Erik, does feeding me with a spoon and the fork get you off? Is this your carefully hidden fantasy? Do you jerk off to the memory of feeding me like a baby?”

The words hang in the air and all you can do is staring at him, too shocked to react to that accusation. You wanted him to bite you? Here you go, he did. Not with his teeth, oh no. He found a much better way to bite you. Words can be so much sharper than teeth could ever be and now it is you swallowing down bitter bile rising in your throat.

Eventually, after what feels like ages, you have your voice back under control and you are astonished how calm you sound when you ask him back: “Do you really _believe_ that, Marco? Do you really know me that little to think that me having to spoon-feed you like a baby or a disabled person could ever turn me on? That I am doing that for my own good and not because I love you and because I am trying to help you? Do you really believe that I find it less disgusting and hurting, less humiliating than you do?”

This is all you manage to bring out before you'll break down right before his eyes. You stand up and leave the kitchen without any other word, making your way to your bedroom like a sleepwalker.

You lay down on the bed where you shared so many passionate and wonderful moments with each other and where you slept the last nights together like two strangers having to share a hotel room with a one single king-size bed by accident, hugging the pillow that still holds his scent, curling yourself up into a small ball.

And then, you finally start to cry.


	4. Erik: Four Weeks Of Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco accused Erik to get off by spoon-feeding him. Erik left him alone in the kitchen, lying on their bed, crying. Will they be able to save their love and their relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Half_Fallen, I have to bother you with another chapter again. I had this chapter and the definitely last fifth one clear in my mind and I need to get this story 'out of my system' before I can go on with others. The last chapter will follow shortly.
> 
> Dear readers,
> 
> thank you so much for the wonderful feedback to the last chapter, each kudo and each comment meant the world to me. This story is easy to write, considering only the words that are clear in my mind, but, it is demanding and exhausting, nonetheless. Without your feedback stories like this are almost impossible to write. So please, keep it up for this and the fifth chapter following shortly, press the kudos-button and write comments to let me know what you think about it.  
> I used some metaphors in this chapter, especially to make Marco's depression 'visible'. I don't know whether you will agree with me or not, please let me know. Marco isn't responsible for all of his actions, a severe depression changes you and your brain. It makes you a different person from who you actually are and I tried to show that with this chapter. It is getting up again and for all of you who stick with me and my lovely boys: the next chapter will reward you with a passionate night. 
> 
> I have also a request: I am almost sure that I will finish Show Me What You Love. Not quite sure, but almost. But, I am absolutely not sure about 'Trust Me With Your Heart'. It has more than 700 hits, but only little kudos for that amount and the 19 comments are mostly answers to the answers. I even don't know if only a few readers clicked it on again and again or if more readers read and enjoyed it. TMWYH would be a much longer WIP to write and surely at least as demanding as this one, especially with including different POVs told from the first and the third POV in turns. Honestly, without more feedback to that part, I cannot do that. This has nothing to do with bribery or extortion. It is simply something I cannot afford the strength and time for without your feedback. I post stories here on AO3 to share them with you, meaning getting your feedback in return for my works. There are stories I can write without that much feedback, even though it isn't really great to do that, but, my Masters And Boys-series is definitely not one of these works, especially not with the hurtful feedback I have gotten for it in the past.  
> So please, if you want me to continue with TMWYH and/or SMWL, let me know and please, leave the feedback under the stories where it would belong instead of just telling it to me here. I will wait with my decision for about two more weeks, but, if I don't get your opinion, I will delete the fifth part and close the series because I can't go on with this series without your active support.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding. My stories are my babies and I don't make such decisions easily, but this is how I feel about it.

You don't know how long you have lain there, hugging your boy's pillow, wetting it with your tears as silent sobs wreck you from head to toe until the door to the bedroom opens and closes again and your boy lies down beside you.

He doesn't ask for permission to touch you as he wraps his arms around you and he poises for one short moment, but you don't pull away, you just bury your wet face in the warm crook of his neck and this is all he needs to hold you as tight as he can without hurting you.

He strokes your back rhythmically like you have done it for him so many times before and you can hear him murmuring tender words into your ear. They are too soft for you to understand them through your sobbing, but, the words are not really important, only the tenderness and the regret audible in his voice and the gentleness of his big hands stroking you as if you were a little tomcat he just saved from being hit by a car. Your flanks quiver and shiver underneath his fingers and you push your nose deeper into its warm and fragrant shelter, inhaling your beloved boy's scent like a junkie eager to get the next shot would sniff cocaine through a note.

When your sobbing finally fades after what feels like hours, but might have been only a couple of minutes, his words become understandable.

“I am so sorry, Erik. I am so so very sorry. Please, forgive me, my Master. I am your boy and I hurt you, but I love you and I am so sorry. Please, forgive me, my beloved Master, I need you,” Marco whispers and you listen to the apology he repeats like a mantra again and again for some time, your body aching and trembling with an exhaustion you have never experienced before, not even after the most straining training sessions, but your mind is pleasantly blank and freed from every heavy thought.

You listen to your boy's words like that and you can hear the self-loathing and the self-hate in his husky voice. This is the voice you recognize, the voice of the young man who became your beloved boy so willingly and who never hurt you on purpose before.

It is so simple that you would shake your head with amusement if you weren't that tired and exhausted and if you didn't need to pull your face away from the heavenly place where it is pillowed so wonderfully for that. The voice you heard for the last seven days was the nasty voice of the dark creature that had taken control over your sweet boy, sitting on his back, clinging to his neck and choking him, pressing him down with its horrible weight. The shadow-like creature with the name depression and Marco isn't to blame for what this creature threw at you in its scornful and hateful voice.

But, your boy was strong enough to fight against this dark creature and even though you still can see this monster hovering over his back – at least you could see it if your face weren't nuzzling Marco's now damp throat, but, it has lost some of its size and weight and you know for sure now that you will be able to defeat it together.

“I am so sorry, I didn't mean to say all of these horrible things, my Master, please,” Marco whispers as you say nothing, now close to tears himself, and you finally find the strength to raise your head and lift your hand up to his stubbly cheek. His wonderful amber-green eyes look at you, his own oh so wonderful eyes, not the fierce yellow ones of the shadow-like dark monster, and you can see the love he feels for you, the regret about what the creature forced him to do in the golden depths.

You smile at him, a teary but honest smile and you stroke his warm skin as you answer his plea for forgiveness. “There is nothing to forgive, love. I know that you didn't want to hurt me. It wasn't you who said these things, it was your depression.”

Marco blinks and you can see that he hadn't expected you to say that. Of course, he didn't. Your sweet boy blames himself for what he said and did and he can't believe that you don't.

“You're not angry with me, my Master? But, I said such hurtful things. I deserve every punishment you'll see fit for me. I promise you that I won't fight against you any longer,” he almost begs, craving for the forgiveness you cannot grant him because there really isn't anything you would have to forgive him. You are neither angry, nor offended, you are only hurt and exhausted. Hurt because of the happenings neither of you is to blame for, because life is cruel and unfair sometimes, and exhausted because fighting against the ugly monster has drained you of all of your physical strength.

But, there is a silver stripe at the horizon and you know that tonight, you reached the absolute bottom. From now on, it can only get up again and when Marco, shyly and hesitantly at first, but then happily and relieved returns your smile, you know that you will get up to the end of the dark tunnel together, stepping back into the bright light side by side and stronger than you have ever been before.

“You don't deserve any punishment, love. You need help and I will help you as best as I can, Marco. You are my beloved boy and I will always be there and love you. But, I can't do that alone, love. I am not a therapist and your depression is too severe for us to defeat it alone and without professional help.” You watch his reaction, closely and a little bit warily, because you know how hard it is for most of the people suffering from a bad depression to accept the truth and be willing to see a therapist. For footballers, who are supposed to be strong and through and through 'male' and unmoved, it is even harder.

But, your sweet boy surprises you by nodding his head right away. “I know, Erik. I realized that myself when I sat there alone in the kitchen, trying to understand what had just happened to make me say such horrible things to the most wonderful Master in the entire world. I will go to Jürgen tomorrow and ask him for help. I know that he has the address of a good therapist and I will go there and make a therapy.”

Your kneels buckle with relief and you are glad that you are already lying on the bed. You halfway expected another fight and you almost start to cry again, because you wouldn't have stand any other round of fighting anymore.

Maybe, if you were only his loving Master, you would have been able to help Marco without asking him to seek professional help. But, you are not only his loving Master. You are also his teammate, a footballer yourself and you are a world champion, celebrating Germany's fourth victory in Brazil together with the others while had to watch it on TV, sitting alone and desperate on his couch. It isn't possible for Marco to let all of his hurt feelings out in front of you, because he knows that he would be talking not only to his Master - who would surely understand him - but also to his teammate. The words that wouldn't hurt you as his Master would definitely hurt you as his teammate and as the footballer you are with all your heart.

You know of course, that these words are there, in him, waiting to break free, but to only know about them and to actually listen to them would be two entirely different things.

Marco, your wonderful boy kept them all inside himself, not wanting to hurt the younger teammate he loves as much as his Master, and they poisoned him and broke free in another way, making him fight against the loving Master he actually only wants to submit to. The footballer Marco needs to get rid of that venom slowly poisoning him, and this without having to fear that his younger teammate will hear it and get hurt by it.

“Yes, please, do that, love,” you whisper, pillowing your head on his shoulder again. Your head aches and your nose is stuffed because of your crying, but, you feel peaceful and almost happy for the first time in weeks, and you can feel by the relaxed way your boy holds you close that Marco feels the same way. He is still stroking your back and you let yourself be stroked and caressed, gratefully, regaining some strength out of your boy's loving embrace.

You know that there will still be obstacles and hardships to overcome, but, you started anew tonight and when you raise your eyes to look over Marco's shoulder, you can see that the black creature has shrunk again and that its color isn't the all-consuming horrible black any longer, but more a very dark grey.

“My Master, can I please ask you something?” your boy inquires, sounding subdued, and you smile at him. “Of course, boy. Anything you need me to ask,” you tell him, because, as exhausted and tired you might be, you will never stop being your boy's kind and loving Master, even not in your weakest hour.

“Would you,” he pauses, licking his lips. “Would you please feed me one more week? I swear to you that I won't fight against you. Never again. But, I still don't know if I can trust myself with food. I'm feeling so much better and I know that it is only because you spoon-fed me. You know so much better what I really need...” his voice trails off, but you remain silent, sensing that he isn't done yet, only tries to gather his thoughts.

You only look at him, your eyes attentively and encouraging him to go on. Your boy draws in a shaky breath. “I even want to ask you to keep the cupboards locked for a while longer. I feel better, now that I know that my depression made me behave like this and that you still love me, as miraculous as it actually is, but, I don't know if I could fight against my cravings alone and without help as long as I am still not really well. I do want to obey you and if you only ordered me to eat properly, maybe I would be able to really obey you, but, I am not sure about myself and I need you to take care of me for a while longer, my Master.”

God, you love him. You love him so much, you can't express in words how much you love your boy right now. You can see how much it has cost him to ask you this, and you are so proud of him that your heart wants to jump out of your chest. But, there is still a tiny doubt, the fear that he might now speak the truth and mean what he said, that he won't fight against you any longer, but, that the shadow-creature will take over control again and you can't risk that in your current state.

Marco looks at you, anxiously waiting for your answer and you sigh with relief when the answer forms itself in your head. “I can do that, Marco, but, considering your behavior during the last week and what you said about the punishment you would deserve, there is something you have to do for me in return.”

His eyes widen and you can see that he steels himself for your next words. You hide your smile and put on the strictest look you can manage with your blotchy face, your swollen nose and your red eyes.

“You will learn how to cook, Marco. I will teach you to cook during the next four weeks and when these four weeks are over, you will cook a delicious meal for me all by yourself, understood?”

Your boy blinks with astonishment and then, a huge smile spreads out on his handsome face. “Yes, my Master, I will do that,” he agrees, happily and you quirk an eyebrow at him. “You might not consider that as a punishment, boy, but believe me, me teaching you how to cook will not be only fun for you. I expect you to do exactly what I'll tell you to do without any fight and argument!”

Marco cocks his head to the side and your breath hitches in your throat and your heart misses a beat when you see his wonderful boyish crooked grin for the first time since the day a careless asshole knocked him out.

“I will be the best student any cook has ever seen, my Master, I promise you!” he shouts out his joy and you simply have to kiss him now. Its has been so long since you were more than only sparring partners in the box ring, fighting against each other and you pull him close and kiss him, hungrily.

Your boy makes a soft sound in his throat and melts in your arms, surrendering to your kiss and granting you access to the soft cavern of his sweet mouth. Your urge to kiss him, to literally eat him, is overwhelming, but it isn't sexual desire that drives you. You are far too tired and wrung out to even think of sex right now and when you press your slim but strong frame against his body, you can feel that his urge to kiss you back isn't sexual, either. It goes so much deeper than sex could ever do, the urge to become one single united being with your boy, to overcome the bodily boundaries and melt into each other until no one will ever be able to separate you again.

This is all about love, pure, honest and deep love, the strongest and most powerful emotion that exists on Earth.

You kiss him, explore his mouth until your stuffed nose forces you to pull away to get some air back into your lungs. You smile at each other, sharing more kisses and spending half of the night with talking. You know that you actually needed to sleep, but, this is important and when you finally fall asleep, wrapped safely in your boy's arms, you do so with a smile on your face.

  


\------------------------------------  


  


If someone had told you when you started with spoon-feeding your boy back then seven days ago, that those times would become the highlights of your days somewhere in the future, you would have snorted, disbelievingly, and called an ambulance to get their sanity checked.

But now, you sit here, holding the spoon up for your boy and your heart sings and your eyes sparkle with pure bliss. Your boy sits next to you and the love, devotion and adoration you can see in his eyes as he looks at you make you feel humble and blessed.

Yes, blessed.

You're truly blessed having such a wonderful boy you're allowed to love and take care of. The fingers of your left hand not occupied with feeding your boy are entangled with the fingers of Marco's right hand, your thumb softly stroking over the tiny blond hairs within its reach. Your eyes never leave your boy's eyes while you offer him the food you have cooked for him while he was away, talking to Jürgen Klopp and asking him for help and the address of a therapist.

It was a long talk and Marco's eyes shone with new hope and happiness when he told you about it after his return. You can see that this talk has done him a world of good and how much he needed it to talk to someone he wouldn't have to fear that he would hurt them with his words.

You cooked for him while he was away and you actually caught yourself whistling a cheerful melody while you did, looking forward to your boy coming home and enjoying your delicious meal.

And how he enjoys it. He savors each bite you feed him with, chewing slowly and carefully and closing his eyes in concentration when you ask him if he is able to decipher the different spices you used. Your entangled fingers caress each other and he makes humming sounds, uttering his approval after each bite.

“Hm, delicious. You used salt,” he shoots you a mischievous look from underneath his eyelashes. You snort but can't hide your amused and happy chuckle. Of course you used salt. You still remember the fairytale your grandmother read to you about the three princesses and their father. The youngest one was sent away when she answered his question about how much she loved him with: “I love you as much as the salt our meals are spiced with.” Her father realized his fatal mistake later and of course, the fairytale has a happy ending, but, you have to think of it each time you take the salt to spice your cooking.

“Try it again, boy. That's a part of your cooking lessons!” you tell him, your body unconsciously tensing up because you expect him to snap back like he did for the last seven days. But Marco surprises you again, opening his mouth eagerly for the next bite.

Your heart pounds in your chest and your cock twitches as you watch him chewing with utter concentration again, your poor dick reminding you forcefully of the fact that it really has been a long time since it was of good use for more than only you relieving yourself. You shift your weight on your chair when your jeans become too tight to be comfortable any longer.

Marco swallows, opening only one eye to consider you appraisingly. “Hot red paprika?”

You are stunned. You stare at him, speechless for one moment before you finally nod your head. He grins at you and his face looks funny as he tries to get a good look at your crotch without opening the other eye. You catch a glimpse of the content smirk as he turns his head away to hide it. Of course, he has noticed your hard-on and he knows exactly that he cooperating and enjoying your cooking skills is what has made you that hard within seconds.

A low growl escapes your lips and he turns his head back to look at you again, his face a still life of innocence. “Is everything okay with you, my beloved Master?” he asks you with faked concern and you know that you shouldn't let him behave that way, but, you are so glad to have your wonderful boy back and you really can't mind his tender little teasing.

“Yes, thank you,” you snap back, distracting yourself from your desire with pushing food onto the fork again one-handed, not trusting yourself enough to look at him right now. You would surely blush and embarrass yourself by breaking your own rule and ordering him into the bedroom instead of feeding him like you are supposed to do right now.

“Erik?” Marco has called you 'Master' most of the times during the last really hard weeks and his tender voice as he calls you by your name lets warmth pool in your stomach.

“Yes, Marco?” You gaze at him and his smile is breathtaking. He squeezes your hand and the love he feels for you let his eyes shine in a wonderful golden shimmer.

“Thank you. Thank you for sticking with me even though I was such an asshole. Thank you for loving me and having been the strict Master I needed you to be although it has cost you almost all of your strength when I fought against you. Thank you for feeding me, because I really can't still trust myself enough, no matter how much I wished it would be otherwise. Thank you for believing in me and trusting me to become the human I once have been again when I didn't believe in myself any longer. Thank you for everything – for just being you. I love you.”

You thought that you could never love him more than you loved him last night when he came to you to apologize? Now you know that you have been wrong. His little speech, uttered with such honesty and gratitude makes your eyes become wet and you have to swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

“You're welcome, Marco. I love you, too,” is all you can croak out, but, judging by the look in his eyes, it is enough. You bend forward to press a gentle kiss on his mouth and the tenderness surging through you eases the pain of your unfulfilled desire a little bit.

When you part again, you pick up the fork again and soon, the two of you are giggling like carefree teenagers as you feed him and he tries to decipher the spices you have used for the meal, making funny faces while he tries.

There is still the shadow-monster sitting on his shoulders, but before yesterday night, it was as tall as the huge gorilla you once have seen in a zoo, while it now looks more like a rather small chimpanzee.

Chimpanzees can be dangerous, as well, you know that, but you think that you have made a huge step forward together and you feel prepared for the next four weeks, safe in the knowledge that you aren't fighting this fight against the monster alone any longer. Kloppo will fight with you and the therapist will help your boy in a way you could never help him.

When you are certain that your boy has closed his eyes in pure bliss with the next bite again, you stuck your tongue out at the dark-grey creature sitting on your boy's back like an old and ugly troll.

“You won't be the winner, we will defeat you!” your murmur almost inaudible before looking back at Marco's beautiful face and the sun seems to shine brighter through the window as you lift up your hand holding the fork to his sensitive mouth again.

Yes together, you will be able to defeat the monster called depression and when your fight is over, your love will be stronger than it has ever been before, you are sure about that.

  


\--------------------------------------------  


  


The next four weeks go by with cooking lessons, the start of the training again – at least for you, because Marco still has to go slow and be careful with his ankle. It is much better and your boy works hard to win back his physical strength and endurance.

He also goes twice a week to the therapist and you can see that he becomes better with each session. You are so happy to see his eyes sparkle again and his mouth curl into that crooked smile and you are truly sad when the second seven days you fed him with the spoon are over.

You wouldn't have believed it, but those seven days have bound you together in a way nothing else could have done. You were holding hands during each meal and Marco looked at you with so much love and faith in his eyes that you were close to tears. You started your cooking lessons and seeing Marco's pride when you fed him with the chicken soup you had cooked together was heartwarming and one of the most special moments in your life since you have become the loving Master of a boy who gifted you with his freely given submission.

Of course, there were darker moments again. Days, when the shadow-monster had regained size and had re-colored in black again, choking your sweet boy with its huge arms wrapped around his throat. Marco didn't fight against you then the way he had fought against you during the first seven days, no. He kept his promise and let himself be fed by you, but on those days, your boy didn't tease you during your meals, he didn't want to decipher the spices and he didn't smile.

You let him, offering comfort and understanding by your mere presence, holding him in your arms when he suddenly started to cry out of the blue. He touched you on those days without permission sometimes, but you never punished him for that, knowing that the ugly troll ruled his actions again and you were far too glad that he at least sought your touch instead of locking himself away and you out. Your cooking lessons weren't always easy, either, sometimes, his defiance broke free and he tried to argue with you about nutrients and the way how to cook. But, you overcame all of that and you knew that your patience and strictness would be rewarded in the end.

Plus, the days when the monster is back become less and less and when the four weeks are almost over, the chimpanzee that once was a huge gorilla has shrunk to a small capuchin monkey, hardly able to wrap its tiny arms around Marco's neck to stay on his back. You can't hear its thin voice any longer and your sweet and wonderful boy is back with you, submitting to you unquestioningly and trusting you to be his loving Master.

It is the last day of the four weeks and it is also the day your boy is supposed to prove himself to you and cook a delicious dinner for you. You watch him coming back from the shopping he has done alone for this event, and his cheeks are rosy because of the soft breeze outside and his happiness.

You watch him entering his house where you have waited for him and which has become your house by this time, as well somehow, and your heart misses a beat because of all the love you feel for him and that wants to burst out of your chest.

It is the day when you realize that he wasn't the only one who has learned so much during the last four weeks. You might have been the one teaching him how to cook and how to fight against his depression to become his former true self again, but, your boy taught you as much as you taught him and you went through your own lessons without even noticing it.

Marco, your wonderful sweet boy taught you how to teach him, if this makes sense in any way. He taught you to trust yourself and your natural skills and abilities of being the kind and strict Master you need to be for your beloved boy without doubting yourself, and he taught you to trust your instincts instead of listening to questioning your 'gut-feelings'.

You smile at him as he carries his bags into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. He is eager to prove himself and surprise you with his cooking skills and you lean back against the backrest of the comfortable couch where you're sitting with your book, musing about what you have learned in only four weeks about yourself.

You have learned that you are stronger than you would ever have believed yourself when you came back from Brazil, and you have learned that your love was strong enough to overcome all the hardships life has thrown at you.

You have learned that there will always be a light at the end of even the darkest tunnel as long as you love and are loved back, no matter how long the tunnel might be and which dark creatures are lurking in the darkness.

You close your eyes, listening to your wonderful boy rummaging in the kitchen and the sounds finally lull you into sleep. You give in to the exhaustion you feel after a straining training and you fall asleep with a smile on your face, knowing that Marco, your beloved boy will be there when you wake up again.

Marco and the delicious dinner he cooked for you. The smile stays on your face while you sleep, dreaming of the things you will do with him after you enjoyed his dinner...


	5. Marco & Erik: Feeling Like A Champion Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has cooked his first dinner for his Master. Will Erik like it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know. I said only five chapters. But, the dinner turned out to be much longer and the chapter would have become too long. Besides, I thought it better to split it into two chapters because of the important topics of Marco's first cooking and the following night when Erik will spank him for the first time. I thought I owe you this special two firsts and that they would be better to read in two different chapters.
> 
> Please, keep your amazing feedback up, tomorrow, Erik and Marco will finally celebrate their love with passionate lovemaking, but I really want to know your opinion about this chapter and Marco's and Erik's dinner. Leave kudos and comments and tell me what you think!  
> Thank you.

All you can do for one moment is gaping at him.

You have set up the dinner table while he was showering and when you put the candles onto it, you smiled, feeling as if it was your first date.

You have been through so much shit together and you shuddered slightly when you remembered the countless times he held your head when you were throwing up for the felt hundredth time, but when you filled the glasses with water – you agreed in no alcohol for both of you as long as you are still recovering from your depression - looking over the table if everything was in place, you had butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks flushed with both, shyness and excitement.

He let you do it all on your own, trusting you that you would make it right. You searched for recipes in the internet to surprise him and you chose a rather difficult one for the start, determined to prove yourself to him. He likes Chinese food because the Chinese cuisine cooks with a lot of vegetables, and you found the perfect dinner for him: prawns sweet and sour, with a light soup as the opening and baked banana as the dessert.

You spent hours in the supermarket looking for all the vegetables you wanted to serve, and for the spices and other things you would need to cook the dinner you promised him while he was at training. After coming home again, you spent hours in the kitchen while he was sleeping on the couch with a small and sweet smile curling around his sensitive lips. You were glad that he could get some hours of peaceful sleep because you know that he oftentimes lay awake at night, holding you, listening to your breathing and worrying about you.

The nap had done him good, the dark circles under his eyes had vanished when he got up to take a shower and his gaze was sharp and clear, golden sparks of mischief dancing in his hazel-green eyes when he told you that he had to dress up tonight because he would have a date later in the evening.

You grinned like an idiot, knowing exactly that you would be his date tonight.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, glad that you had shaved and showered before the shopping, and you were astonished when you realized that you hadn't had one sad or dark thought today. Quite the opposite, you are cheerful and feel as good as you haven't felt in at least six months.

You set up the table with a happy smile on your face and the butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, making you giggle without any reason.

But, happiness doesn't need any reason to be there, it is reason itself enough.

And then, he entered the room and you froze in place, unable to do anything than just gape at him like this.

Your Master is the most stunning sight you have ever seen in your entire life.

He told you that he would dress up and how he dressed up. Every soft light-brown strand of his hair is accurate in place and you can smell his favorite aftershave. The one he only uses before very special events.

Like the date he has with you tonight.

The butterflies clap their wings, excitedly, and your cock tries tear through the tight dark jeans you dressed with after cooking and before setting up the table. You realize that your mouth feels dry because your jaw dropped and you snap it shut, hoping that the expression on your face is not too stupid while you continue to stare at your Master.

He wears a very tight black leather pants.

Damn it. When the hell did he buy these pants and where did he keep them without you seeing them? They are tight like in _'tight'_ and they enclose his perfect long legs like a second skin. They make him look like a beautiful big cat and all you can think of is that you want to be this cat's prey, hunted down and dragged into its den.

Your cock groans. Can cocks groan? You have no bloody clue, but if someone asked you, you would swear an oath that your cock actually groaned only one second before.

To make not only your cock groan, but the rest of you, as well, your Master has chosen a tight black dress shirt accentuating his flat abdomen and his worked out torso in a mouth-watering way. Yes, the shirt is tight like in _'tight'_ , again. How can he move in these clothes without feeling uncomfortable? That's really not fair!

He looks sexy as hell and when his mouth curls into a knowing smile, you are sure that he heard your cock groaning, too. Suddenly, you feel under-dressed in your white shirt and your dark skinny jeans. You bite your lips and he seems to sense what's going on in your head because he crosses the distance between the two of you with two large steps and then, he stands right before you and his unique scent, a mixture of his skin and his special aftershave, fills every cell of your body.

“You look stunning tonight, boy,” he whispers hoarsely and you drown in his eyes, forgetting his sexy appearance for one moment when you see the deep unquestioning love for you in his eyes. His hand comes up to card through your hair in a tender gesture and when his mouth comes close to yours, you feel the way you felt when you kissed for the first time.

It is a tender kiss, not meant to arouse you any further although you can feel by the unmistakable pressure against your thigh that his cock might have groaned by your sight, too. He pulls back from your lips, winking at you with his right eye. “That's only my lighter,” he says in a deadpan voice, but with a mischievous grin on his face and you cannot help but chuckle.

Your Master offers you his arm and together, you walk to the dinner table where you pull the chair for him. He sits down and you serve him with the soup before sitting down on your usual place at the large end of the table right next to the head of it where he always sits. You serve your self and take a deep breath. Will he like what you cooked for him? You will know it in a couple of minutes and you are nervous like hell, murmuring silent prayers that you didn't screw it up.

**

  
You passed the first test, your Master liked the soup. You could see it in his eyes and he praised you with encouraging words, but, you are still that nervous that your stomach feels like a tight knot and the butterflies don't dare moving. Even your cock showed mercy and shrank again, not fully, but as much that you can sit without problems.

You serve your Master with the rice and the prawns sweet and sour and you hate it that your hands tremble as you fill his bowl. He waits with the first bite until you have served yourself and your eyes are glued to his face as he picks up the chopsticks and manages to trap a rather large portion between them.

You swallow, watching the chopsticks wandering up to his mouth, pushing the mixture of rice, sauce, prawn and vegetables into it. He looks at you while he chews, carefully, and you think that you might die right here and then because of your nervousness.

It's his turn to swallow now and you hold your breath, your fingers clenching around your own sticks. He keeps looking at you, but says nothing and when you can't stand it any longer, you croak out: “Is it good?”

God, please, please, let him like it, please!

Erik slowly shakes his head and your heart stops beating. Oh God, you fucked it up, he doesn't like it. You open your mouth to apologize, desperately searching for an explanation, but his finger on your trembling lips silence you.

“No, love, it isn't just 'good'. It is the most delicious meal I have ever tasted in my entire life.” His eyes hold your gaze and you can see in the hazel-green depths that he is dead-serious about that.

Your legs start to shake and you've never been more grateful before that you are already sitting. You have to swallow several times before your voice obeys your brain's orders again. “Do you really like it, my Master? You don't say that to console me or because you think that the truth would hurt me and make me depressed again?” you stammer, blushing as you realize your impudence. Your Master could punish you for you questioning him telling the truth. You know that other Masters would probably do that and you steel yourself for being told off, but, you don't lower your eyes down at the table. You didn't think that he lied to you, you only have a hard time believing that you really did something right. It is still hard to believe for you, even though you are feeling so much better.

Your Master places his sticks onto his plate and takes your hand, lifting it up to his mouth to kiss every finger. “I love it. It is perfect, love. You really outdid yourself and I am so proud of you that there are no words to describe it,” he says in between the kisses and a sob escapes your lips. Erik cups your cheek and pulls you in for another tender kiss. He nuzzles your nose with his own and kisses the tip of it before smiling at you.

“What do you think of enjoying this perfect dinner before it gets cold? That would be a shame, wouldn't it?” he suggests and you smile back at him with teary eyes but a happy smile on your face.

“Yes, it would. Enjoy your meal, my beloved Master.” You can't hide your adoration for him showing in your eyes and you also don't want that. You want him to see how much you love and adore him, how much you crave to be his good boy and submit to him, unquestioningly.

“Enjoy your meal, love.” He takes his sticks again after one last tender gaze and you do the same, tasting your dinner for the first time since you put the bowls onto the table. It is delicious and your chest swells with pride and joy. You didn't fuck it up, this time, you did it right and you need a couple of minutes before you realize the true meaning of this feeling that makes your heart wanting to burst out of its bony prison, your eyes wet and your throat clench with all the emotions you feel right now.

You don't need a mirror to recognize the look on your face, you have seen it a couple of weeks before, on one special day, to be precise.

You saw this look on the faces of your teammates on July the 13th 2014. You saw it when the referee blew the final whistle after Mario had scored against Argentina in the final. When your teammates realized that they had won the title and were the new world champions, they showed exactly the same expression that has spread out on your face now.

Tonight, you feel like a world champion.

Not because you won the fourth title with your teammates.

You feel like a world champion because you fought successfully against your depression, defeating it after going through an ice-cold and dark hell.

You feel like a champion because you finally learned how to cook and because your beloved Master praised your cooking skills and enjoys the dinner you cooked for him all by yourself.

You feel like a champion because your wonderful Master never stopped believing in you, fighting with you and loving you, no matter how much you hurt him.

But, most of all, you feel like a champion because you learned one important thing: titles are wonderful and can make you happy for a rather short time, but they will never make you happy for as long and as deep as you loving someone and being loved by said someone in return will do.

Titles will never be as fulfilling as true love actually is, and you don't need to win titles to be a champion and feel like one, all you need for that is love.

You look your Master in his beautiful eyes and you smile because you know that you will feel like a world champion every day, because you have him by his side and because you love him more than you ever loved anything else in your whole life – even football.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

You can't take your eyes off your boy.

Your wonderful and sweet boy.

Marco is so beautiful in his happiness that your heart clenches with all the love you feel for him. It is not his perfectly fitting white shirt accentuating his slim figure so wonderfully, and it's also not the skinny jeans enclosing his long legs in a way that you feel hot and sweaty ever since you entered the dining room.

No, your boy is more beautiful than you have ever seen him looking before because he is finally your boy again. Your sweet and happy boy. There is no shadow-monster hovering over his back, choking him and stealing the life and the golden sparks from his eyes. The monster is gone and Marco is just Marco again. He is the Marco you once knew and fell head over heels in love with, again.

Your boy sits next to you and looks at you with love and devotion, smiling with pure happiness, and you really don't know what to do with all the love you feel for him.

He just put the dessert on the table and his cheeks are rosy and his eyes shining. You can see how proud he is of himself and he has all right to feel this way.

Tonight, he feels like a champion and you are so happy for him because you know that he deserves to feel like a real champion more than you deserved to feel like this back then, on July the 13th. You can feel the heavy weight of your bad conscience about you having been in Brazil without even playing one match while he had to stay behind finally, finally easing a little bit. It will never leave you fully, but, you will be able to live with it without being remembered of it all of the time in the future and you are grateful for it.

You carefully avoid to mention this topic even though he probably wouldn't mind it, finally being ready to deal with it, but not tonight. This night is not about football, champions or anything else, this night is only about you and him – him and you.

You as his loving Master and him as your beloved boy. Nothing else is important and you will make sure that it will stay that way tonight, no matter what. If he will feel like a champion tonight, than only because of what he did for you and for himself and not because of anything else.

You thank him as he serves you with the deliciously smelling banana and your attentive eyes notice the short grimace he makes as he puts his weight on his ankle. His foot is almost healed, but yesterday, he went for a run and you knew that he had overdone it again the minute he came back. You didn't say anything, sensing that he needed a valve for his feelings and this reminds you of what you want to try later, after dinner.

You feel nervous about it, because you have no clue how your boy will react to your suggestion and if he will take it the wrong way and think that you find it pleasurable to cause him pain which is not the intention behind your idea, not the least.

You sigh, forcing your thoughts back on the here and now. Your boy deserves it that you pay attention to his perfect dinner until you have taken the last bite, and the banana is as delicious as the soup and the prawns have been.

“Mhm, wonderful, Marco!” you purr and he lets out a small shout of joy.

God, how you love and desire him! Your poor cock aches with all the desire you suppressed for so long. You had sex in between, two or three times, but, it was hardly more than tension release, both of you too exhausted and hurt to feel more than a short moment of relief.

Tonight will be totally different, though. Tonight, you will make love again, just how it should be between a Master and his beloved boy, and you find yourself shifting your weight on your chair because your pants are so damn tight.

You have seen the look on his face and his eyes when you stepped over the threshold and this alone is worth the discomfort you feel at the moment, but, you'd better hurry with the banana and cleaning the table together because you really, really need to make love to him tonight, the sooner the better.

His with his arousal dilated pupils tell you that he thinks much the same and you start to gobble down the banana. It doesn't deserve it because it is truly delicious, and you silently apologize to the poor fruit, but sorry, you really need to have your boy in your bedroom any time soon before your balls turn blue and you can't be considerate of a banana right now, no way.

The two of you look at each other when the last piece of banana has found the way into your mouth and his breathing is as ragged as yours. You only nod your head and he jumps to his feet, grabbing the empty plates and rushing into the kitchen with them. You follow him with the glasses in a similar pace.

You have never cleaned a table as fast as you do it tonight.


	6. Erik & Marco: One Night Of Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Erik enjoyed the delicious dinner Marco has cooked. Now, they want to make love. But, there is something Erik wants to talk about with Marco at first. How will his sweet boy react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this WIP will be finished with this chapter. I had actually planned a one-shot with not more than 5000 words and now, it is a WIP with 6 chapters and more than 20.000 words. I seem to be unable to write shorter ones when it comes to my Masters and Boys.  
> Writing their lovemaking from the second POV was an interesting experience and I hope that you will like what came out. Please, keep up your feedback to the end and let me know if you liked it!
> 
> Those of you who still remember the talk between Marco and Robert in ch 5 of GMWIN will know that Marco said that the spanking wasn't sexual at first. I decided to re-write that part a little bit which I will do after the posting here. It didn't fit in the plot any longer and I couldn't know that when I started GMWIN. This chapter will include the first spanking, this time told from Erik's POV. It has nothing to do with abuse, non-consensual or punishment and I tried to write it in a way that each of you my dear readers hopefully will be able to read it, because it is an important part of my series and of Marco's and Erik's relationship.

The way to your bedroom has never been that long as it is now.

You stumble your way through the corridor, blindly, with your arms full with your sweet boy and your lips glued to his mouth and damn it, you will go crazy if you don't get there within the next five seconds!

All you want to do is rip his clothes from his body and your own and feel him as deep inside you as only possible, as deeply connected as two human beings only can be.

It is a good thing that you have never been the kind of Dom who doesn't want to bottom for his sub and you have never had any problems with staying his Master when you bottomed for your boy. You actually love to bottom because you are very sensitive when it comes to this kind of stimulation and there is no way that either of you could be satisfied with only petting and blowjobs tonight.

 _'Why do you want to bottom for him instead of claiming him the right way?'_ Most people would probably ask you, unable to understand that you never ordered him to bottom for you so far.

 _'Because I love him,'_ would be your simple answer, and that's all you would say to that, because it is really none of anybody else's business what the two of you do in bed or not do in bed.

Those thoughts vanish when you push the door to your bedroom open and the huge bed comes into sight. Finally.

This is also the moment you win back your self-control, because, there is something you want to do at first, before you will make love to your wonderful boy for the rest of the night.

You draw back from his lips and sit down on the bed, pulling him with you. Your boy looks at you with big eyes and you smile at him and cup his cheek.

“Don't worry, love, you did nothing wrong and I need to make love to you as much as you need it. You are allowed to touch me without asking me beforehand tonight whenever you need to touch me, love. But, there is something I want to talk to you about before we'll start. It is important and I do believe that now is the right time to do that.”

Marco blinks and shifts his weight because his hard-on makes it really uncomfortable for him to sit, but, he nods and his eyes show a curious expression. Your smile assures him that he didn't do anything wrong and he relaxes, waiting for you to speak up.

“Yesterday, when you came home after your run, I could see that your ankle was hurting again,” you start, watching him attentively. Marco blushes and bites his lip, but, he nods. “Yes, my Master. I am sorry. I know that I shouldn't have run for so long, but, yesterday, I felt bad again and I really needed this physical exertion,” he says, not trying to pretend that his ankle is fine.

You stroke over the slight stubble on his cheek with your thumb. “I am not angry with you, love. I know why you ran and that you needed this as a tension release. But, considering how bad your injury was and that you have to be careful in the future, I thought about another way for you to release tension that wouldn't endanger your health like the running actually does.”

Your boy tilts his head to the side, looking stunned. “You did, my Master?”

“Yes, love. It might sound strange to you at first, but I want you to listen to me and hear me out to the end, boy. Understood?” You have to admit that you are nervous and you can only hope that Marco won't take your offer the wrong way.

Your boy nods again, and his expression doesn't change into concern, the trust he has in you stays visible, and he presses his cheek against your palm like a tomcat that trusts his owner that they will never hurt him. “Understood, my Master,” he replies to confirm the astonishing faith he has in you.

You clear your throat.

“This is only an offer, Marco. You can say no to it at any time. You can think about it as long as you need to, and my offer is NOT meant as a punishment. I would never ever punish you that way, okay?”

Marco nods again and his eyes become even more curious. He doesn't draw back from you which is a good sign, you guess.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for his surely at least disbelieving reaction.

“I would like to try as an alternative to your races to spank you instead.”

Now, you have finally said it out loud. You mused for quite some time about it, but didn't dare bringing up this topic as long as he suffered from his depression. You look at him without moving waiting for him to jump to his feet and storm out of the room – as far away from you as possible.

Your boy gazes back at you and his brows are furrowed, but not because he is angry with you, but because he is thinking pretty hard about what you have said. You know him well enough to see the difference and you hardly can believe that he still sits there, leaning against your side.

When he says nothing, only looks at you, musingly, you take another breath.

“Please, don't think that me causing you pain would get me off, Marco,” you tell him, remembering the words he threw at you when you spoon-fed him. You halfway expect him to laugh or snort, but your boy stays serious and only shakes his head. “This thought is that ridiculous that it would never even cross my mind, Erik,” he replies, sighing when he remembers the fateful words he once uttered right after closing his mouth. “I know what I did when I accused you of getting off by spoon-feeding me and I will never forgive myself for saying that to you,” he drawls, still thinking. “I never believed that, I only wanted to lash out and I am so sorry for that.”

You stroke his cheek, telling him without words that he shouldn't be that unforgivable to himself.

Marco sighs again, snuggling closer. “You don't have to fear that I would ever think that. I know that you would never hurt me on purpose. But, do you really believe that it would help me as much as the running does?” he asks uncertainly.

You pull him on your lap, wrapping your arms around him and he lays his head on your shoulder.

“I don't know, love. It could. I would be very careful, of course. As I told you, it is not meant as a punishment and my intention is not to hurt you. But, the effect of the temporary pain could be the same as your races have. I would always take care of you afterwards and I swear to you that I will never do it without you asking me explicitly to do it. Plus, you don't need to utter your safeword in case you need me to stop. I will stop the second you say 'stop'. I understand your need to run, Marco, I really do. I am a sportsman myself and I know why you do it. But, your ankle doesn't take those runs well and we need to find an appropriate substitute.”

You stroke his hair, hoping that he will see your point. It has cost you a lot to make this offer and you really don't want him to take it the wrong way.

There is a long silence and you wait patiently, knowing that this isn't easy for your boy to digest, either. You have practiced this speech in your mind countless times and yet listening to your own words caught you off-guard somehow.

When your boy finally lifts his head up from your shoulder, you would bet that he will shakes his head and explain to you that he doesn't want that. You feel disappointed even before he opens his mouth because you are really afraid that he will ruin his ankle with his runs and it takes you a moment before you realize what he actually has said:

“Can we try it now?”

The words hang in the air and you blink. “Now?” you ask back. You haven't expected him to agree to your suggestion. You would have been fine with him telling you that he needs time to think about it. You certainly didn't expect him to ask you to do it here and now.

“Uhm, sure,” you croak out, staring at him to see that your ears didn't play tricks on you.

Your boy licks his lips. “Please, my Master, I want to try it now. I feel good and I think that it would be good for me to give it a try when I'm really well to see if I can take it when I am not so well. I mean, if I won't like it now when I'm fine, then I surely won't stand it if I'm not fine, right?”

You pull him in for a tender kiss. He returns your kiss with so much devotion that you have to blink against the sudden wetness in your eyes. “Remember love, you say stop and I will stop and this is not any kind of punishment!” you whisper against his lips and he nods. “I know, my Master. I trust you.”

There are no words to describe how you feel right now, your heart so full of love that your chest aches. “Undress, love and kneel on the bed with your hands against the headboard,” you order him, gently. You know that a lot of Doms spank their subs when they are lying over their thighs, but, this reminds you too much of a punishment, even though this might be wrong, but, you can't help it.

Your boy obeys hastily and you start to undress, as well, peeling yourself out of your tight shirt. You don't want to make this some kind of sex game, but, the spanking won't have the same effect when your boy is still dressed and you sense that he will feel less vulnerable if you're not fully dressed, either. You are just about to open your belt when Marco, already naked and kneeling on the bed, suddenly asks, his voice shy and uncertain: “Please, my Master, could you leave your pants on for a while longer? You look so... sexy like that and it would make it easier for me, I think...” his voice trails off and you can see that he fears that he crossed a line.

Your cock has grown to full hardness again by his words and you don't trust your own voice, so you only give him a short nod. He turns his head to face the wall above the bed and you admire your beautiful boy for one second. Marco has regained the needed weight again and his pale skin shimmers in the moonlight shining through the window. He kneels with his legs slightly spread and you can see that he is half-hard himself.

You desire him so much that it's hurting, but you have learned that your patience will be rewarded and you ignore the pain in your cock and your balls as you kneel behind him on the bed.

“Are you okay, love?” you ask him and your boy turns his head to smile at you. “Yes, I am, my Master.”

“Good, I will start now,” you say, your voice rough as you lift your hand up to give the perfectly rounded left butt cheek a first smack. You don't use much force, but you flinch by the rather loud sound echoing in the air as your palm hits his naked skin for the first time.

Your boy lets out a yelp of surprise, but doesn't try to get away and the yelp is followed by a groan.

A groan that is definitely more a moan of pleasure than a groan of pain. You smack his right butt cheek just to be sure. Marco moans again and you can see that his cock grows to full hardness within the blink of an eye. The next smack lets pre-come leak out of the slit and when you look at your boy's face, you can see that he has his eyes closed and that his face shows the expression it always shows when he slips into his subspace.

Good, you hoped that the spanking would have this effect, and you can feel the effect it has on you as you start to enter your own Domspace. Your smacks hail down on the reddening ass of your sweet boy in a steady rhythm now and your hand starts to sting, but you don't falter, focused only on your boy and his reactions to your spanking. Marco moans with every hit, but they are moans of pleasure and not only pain, and he shifts his weight and arches his back to feel your smacks better as his cock becomes harder and harder, the creamy drops your slaps milk from him rolling down on the throbbing shaft. You can see that he is close to his orgasm and you would never have thought that the spanking could turn into so much more than only what you had in mind when you offered it to him in the first place, but, it is a good thing that he feels this way and you speed up to make him come. You haven't told him to hold back because you wanted him to focus on his feelings when you would spank him for the first time. You could tell him now to hold back and your wonderful boy would surely try to obey, being that deep in his subspace, but you don't want that, not tonight.

This night is about pleasure and making love and if the spanking you wanted to try because of a totally different reason can be a part of your love making, so the better. Your hand hurts and his butt is glowing deep red now, but his gasps and moans becoming more and more urgent tell you that you'd better not stop now and you don't, your flat palm hitting the right cheek and the left cheek in turns. Your own cock is complaining loudly about its tight prison now, and you fear that you might come in your pants just like that.

It is not the pain you cause your boy that arouses you, but his pleasure and the way he slipped so easily in his subspace, giving himself to you with so much trust that you feel blessed and honored again. Your other hand itches with the urge to wrap itself around his leaking cock, but, you want to find out if he can come untouched this way.

You land your hand on his left cheek that quivers under your touch, as hot as your palm is by now, and then on his right cheek and the next smack on the left one again pushes your boy over the edge. His knees buckle as his cock literally explodes, stripes of white pleasure painting his abdomen and the headboard in front of him. Your boy cries out his ecstasy and you slap him through his height until his cock has shot its entire load and softens again.

You catch your boy when he threatens to fall and you are not surprised to find his cheeks wet. You pull him close, not caring about the mess he makes when his with his semen-coated dick is trapped between your bodies.

“Hush, I got you. You did well, love, so well. It's okay, just cry, I got you,” you murmur into his ear, overwhelmed by your own emotions. Your boy wraps his arms around your neck and cries, and you hold him and rock him, whispering words of love and comfort against his wet cheek, your own aching desire completely forgotten.

“Erik?” Marco finally croaks out when the heavy sobbing stops. “Yes, love?”

“Am I – am I creepy because I found the spanking that – good?” your boy asks you, his face buried on your shoulder. You can hear the worries and the embarrassment in his voice and you kiss his temple. “No, love, you're not creepy. The spanking helps you to get into your subspace and it sets endorphin free, just like your races. Your feelings are absolutely okay, love. There is nothing you needed to be ashamed of.”

Marco sighs and relaxes, believing your words. Others would argue about that, but, he is your boy and you are his Master, and if you tell him that it is okay to feel the way he did during the spanking, then, he believes you. Sometimes, it's that simple. “I am sorry that I didn't hold back, my Master,” is all he says and you lay your hand under his chin to look at him.

“I didn't tell you to hold back, boy. You did nothing wrong. I wanted you to come like this when I saw that the spanking did you good. I know that you are my good boy and would have held back if I had ordered you to.”

His face is blotchy, but so beautiful when he smiles at you. “Can we do that again?” he asks you and you smile back. “Of course, love. If you really need it and ask me to do that.” You shift your weight because your pants are so damn tight and your boy swallows when he sees the pain of your unfulfilled desire in your dark eyes.

“My Master, please, let me pleasure you. Please, I need to pleasure you. Let me take care of you!” he almost begs and you hear the urge in his voice. He is still deep in his subspace and his urge to pleasure you is as painful as your urge to find some release.

You silence him with a rough kiss, claiming his mouth with your tongue pushing deep into it and he surrenders to you like a good boy should surrender to his Master, letting you claim him and explore his mouth. He kisses you back but doesn't try to control the kiss, only responding to your unspoken orders, his tongue playing with yours like it has done so oftentimes. When you pull away to get some air back into your lungs, you open your belt and push the leather pants over your hips. Your cock springs free and you can not suppress the pained groan fleeing your lips.

“Blow me!” you order him, crazy with need and lust. Marco slips from the bed and kneels before it, his hands grabbing your hips to stabilize you as he opens his mouth to swallow you deep down with the first move. You don't have to tell him that you are too aroused for teasing, he can feel that himself and his only wish is to take care of your burning need and let you find the release you need so badly. His tongue does incredible things as agile, willing and eager as it is, swirling around your aching shaft and driving you crazy before your boy goes to sucking you off in earnest with hollow cheeks.  
You are grateful for his big hands holding you because you are not sure if you could stay upright without his help. You close your eyes and your thoughts and your feelings are focused only on the hot pleasure pooling in your groin, sharp jolts of electricity shooting along your spine with every move of his head. You need to come, now, or you will go crazy and your boy seems to sense that because the next move sucks your pulsing cock into his throat and you cry out and explode right there and then. It is a good thing that your boy can take all of the hot ecstasy you feed him with, swallowing the fast jets rushing down his throat without any problems, and when you're finally done with coming after ages of pure bliss, he catches your fall and holds you in his strong arms until you have caught your breath again.

You let yourself be held for a while, savoring the warm afterglow of your painfully intensive orgasm to the fullest, thinking that being in heaven must feel exactly like that, because the place in your boy's arms is truly a heaven on Earth.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

You hold your Master in your arms, musing about the last time you have felt as happy and satisfied as you feel right now, listening to his ragged breathing slowly calming down. You can't remember it and you are almost certain that you have never felt as happy and satisfied as you now feel in your whole life.

Your butt burns like fire, but the ache grounds you in a way nothing has ever grounded you, not even your races. You felt so safe and so loved when your Master spanked you, each smack telling you how much he loves you and cares about you. You could feel that he was careful to not really hurt you badly, and you focusing on his loving hand and the next hit centered you and grounded you, making your world whole in a way nothing else could ever have done it.

You know that you want to experience that again and you are happy that your foresighted Master suggested to spank you. Now you know that you have something that will make you feel better when you are down and depressed and that your urge to run until you will break down won't haunt you in the future any longer. You always knew that you would risk your career, but, you needed it and the knowledge that your Master found something else, something so much better, makes you feel happy and confident.

The young man who is younger than you and yet so strong and self-confident, your tower of strength in the stormy sea you threatened to drown in, lifts his head from your shoulder and smiles at you. “You outdid yourself again, boy,” he purrs. “First your perfect dinner and now such a wonderful – dessert...”

The happy snicker bubbling out of you is infecting and both of you are still laughing as you peel him out of his tight trousers and you wipe both of you clean with one of the tissues lying on the nightstand beside the bed.

You snuggle close under the covers, kissing and stroking each other with love and tenderness. You know that the night has just begun and that there will be another round of passionate lovemaking, now that the first need is sated. It has been so long since you made love, more than only a couple of weeks, because the quick sex you had two or three times in between doesn't count. That was only a poor substitute of what you normally share and you'd rather stay abstinent for some more weeks than experience that again.

Your Master's skilled hand – the right one which smacked you only a couple of minutes before – is now caressing your back with greatest tenderness while he nibbles at your throat and you moan, your cock waking up again. Your own hands trail over his warm skin, his long elegant legs and his perfect abs, and his breathing speeds up. Good, your wonderful Master is as hungry for you as you are for him. You tilt your head to the side to give the man you love so much better access to your vulnerable throat and he rewards you with tender love bites.

God, you love it when he claims you, leaves marks on you that show that you are taken and the beloved boy of the most wonderful Master in the world.

This thought suddenly reminds you of a question you didn't dare to ask so far even though it troubled you and of course, Erik senses you tensing up only the slightest and lifts his head up to consider you.

“Yes, boy? You want to ask me a question?”

You lick your lips. His hand strokes feather-like over your aching butt and the loving touch helps you to gather your courage and finally ask your Master what you need to know so badly:

“My Master, why did you never try to claim me the right way, to take me? I know what I said to you, but, I would have needed it when I felt so bad and I know that you want to take me, as well.”

Erik bends down and kisses you softly. “Of course, I want to take you, love. You are my boy and one day, I will claim you like it should be. And I know that you thought that you needed me to take you after the world championship. But, you were not in the state for anyone taking your virginity, back then, Marco, neither Robert, nor me. You were so hurt and sick, and you needed to heal first before this will finally happen. I gave you a promise and I would never break it, Marco. I would have abused you and somehow raped you if I had taken advantage of your vulnerability and just taken what you want to gift to Robert. I know that you still want that. You love him. You know that the two of you would never work out without a loving Master accepting both of you together and taking both of you as his beloved boys, but, I do understand your wish to gift the man you love as much as you love me – only in another way – with something special. I only waited for you to heal, but, you can be assured that I will see to your dream coming true one day. I know that Robert still loves you, too, and I know that he at least finds me attractive. He doesn't know about his submissive nature, but, I am a patient man and I won't give up that easily. One day, when Robert will be my boy, too, I will take you. But until then, I'll enjoy my sweet boy's skills when it comes to making love to me. For me, the most important thing is that you are happy, Marco. That you are happy and that we can be as close as possible. I have no problems with being a bossy bottom.”

He winks at you with his right eye and grins his boyish grin and God, you swear that you are melting into a happy puddle, your cock twitching happily as you see this grin. He pulls you close as he notices your reaction and his grin vanishes, erased by the expression of pure lust and want you can now see on his face. You moan loudly and the sound is strangled by his hot mouth kissing you senseless. You close your eyes and your hands pull at the drawer of the nightstand at the same time, fumbling for the bottle with the lube.

Your wonderful Master rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, still sucking the air out of your lungs with his kiss, and your fingers tremble as you pour the lube onto them. His first orgasm has relaxed him enough that your finger slips into him, easily, and you both moan with the sensation. This time, you battle with his tongue for dominance in earnest and he lets you for a while before taking control of the kiss again. Your cock throbs in time to your finger pushing in and out of your Master's passage and you know where to search for the special knob that will make him moan and pant.  
You love pleasuring your Master this way, you are born to be his boy and make him happy, your only desire to satisfy him as best as possible. His walls are hot and clench around your digit as you stimulate him, and it doesn't take long until you try the second finger, scissoring them and brushing over his sweet spot until his cock presses hard against your hipbone, smearing pre-come all over your damp skin. Your own hard length wets his abs and you can't hold back your ardent moan.  
You desire your Master so so much and you forget the fire burning in your ass and the world around you while you prepare him, using a third finger to make sure that the only thing he will feel when you finally are allowed to enter him will be pleasure – pure pleasure and nothing else.

“I love you, my Master, I love you so much,” you gasp out when he lets go of your bruised mouth and he wriggles underneath you, lubing your rock-hard shaft up. You almost come when you feel his fingers on your dick and you draw in a shaky breath. God, you need to feel him!

His eyes are only dark rounds as he looks up at you when you cover his body with your own, bracing your hands against the mattress. He guides you in position and wraps his perfect legs around your hips.

“You will be my good boy and hold back until I'll give you permission to come, understood?” his voice is husky but strict and he is the powerful Dom you crave to submit to unquestioningly even though he is the one bottoming for you. You nod your head. “Yes, my Master, I won't come without permission!” you say and you know that you will keep this promise. You are deep in your subspace and the only thing that matters to you is to obey your Dom's order and pleasure him, make him happy with your surrender.

His fingers enclose your upper arms as you slowly enter him and he arches his hips to feel you deeper inside his pulsing channel. A slight hiss escapes his lips as you breach his puckered rosebud, but, you know that he can take you and the tight heat swallowing you feels like heaven on Earth.

You pause for one moment when you are buried to the hilt inside him, your eyes fixed on his beautiful face, flushed with his arousal. He moans softly and the love in his eyes makes your throat go tight with gratitude. This astonishing young man loves you and he lets you take him even though you want another man to be your first. You are sure that no other man would allow you that. They would be angry and hurt and leave you or force themselves upon you, but not your Master Erik. He loves you and he understands you better than you understand yourself. He gives you what you need without question and in this moment, when you are finally reunited again after the horrible and long weeks of suffering, you promise to yourself that you will never fail him again, never make him cry and always be the good boy he deserves to have. You love him and you would go through hell and back if he asked you to.

But, he doesn't. He only asks you to be his good boy and when you finally start to move, your world shrinks the spot where you are connected, being only one. You lose all track of time as you thrust in and out, focusing only on making your Master come as good as he never came before. This is your only goal and your only desire and you hear yourself murmur passionate love-confessions as you use all of your skills to let that happen.

In and out, in and out, each thrust aimed at his sweet spot, and his fingers digging painfully into your arms tell you that you do a great job with driving him crazy. You know that he doesn't need any further stimulation to come, but when your eyes ask for permission to jerk him off in time to your thrusts, he nods and you shift your weight and wrap your hand around his leaking rock-hard member. He shudders and moans in time to your thrusts and your backside burns and protests, but, you hardly feel it. All that you feel is the tight heat enclosing your shaft, the walls pulsing erratically because he is so close to his climax, and the weight of his perfect cock in your hand. You stroke up and down, up and down and his legs wrapped around your hips tremble.

Fuck, you love it to turn him into a mess of arousal and happiness and you speed up, thrusting harder and faster just like he needs it being so close to his height. “Fuck, Marco!” he grinds out through gritted teeth and you feel like a champion again. Your Master will come within the next seconds and you will be the one making him come, you and only you. Your grip around his cock tightens and this is all he needs to jump over the edge and right into the abyss of pure and raw ecstasy.

Your Master comes with a shout, shivering and trembling underneath you, his hot pleasure bristling all over your sweaty fingers. His channel massages you in time to the jets his cock shoots all over your hand and you bite your lips because your cock threatens to explode.

“Fill me up, boy, come now!”

You wonder briefly how he managed to form such a rather long sentence, but then your mind goes blank when you obey his hoarse order, filling him with your hot seed again and again. Your ecstasy erupts from your own cock, hitting his sweet spot and prolonging his climax and you have a hard time with not crushing him with your weight as you shudder through your own height of passion.

 

It goes on and on and on and just when you think that you will black out, the painfully intensive pleasure fades to the soft glow of the aftermath rolling through both of you. Your Master pulls you down and wraps his arms tightly around you and you share a soft kiss full of love and tenderness before you bury your face on his neck.

“I love you, Erik,” you whisper.

“I love you, too, Marco,” your Master whispers back.

You smile.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

You look up at your sweet boy moving above you, thrusting into you and filling the emptiness you have felt for weeks with every push inside you. You hadn't realized until now how empty you had felt the entire time and how scared your were that you would lose your second boy like you lost your first boy.

But, you didn't lose him. He is right here with you, making love to you and giving himself to you like he has never done before. This is so much more than only sex and each thrust lets you feel an entire world of emotions. He knows so well how to make love to you and you see stars before your eyes every time he hits your most sensitive spot, stars of passion and lust. You can't hold back your moans like you do so oftentimes, but tonight, you don't want to hold them back. You want your boy to see how much he pleasures you, how happy he makes you and when you can see the question in his eyes, you nod your head.

God, his hand around your aching length is perfect, and he knows exactly how to stroke you to make you come that hard that you think you will black out with the force of your orgasm.

In and out, in and out he thrusts into you, matching his strokes with his thrusts and the sensation of the double stimulation shoves you relentlessly towards the edge. Not that you don't want that, quite the opposite. You suppressed your desire for your boy for weeks, knowing that he was too sick and hurt for sharing this intimacy with you and now that you finally feel him deep inside you, completing you and filling every cell of your body with his love and his devotion, you simply let go and explode in a breathtaking climax. “Fuck, Marco!” you cry out when your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami.

Your hot release coats his clever fingers and your walls milk his throbbing cock and all you can think of is that you need him to fill you and share this moment of heaven with you.

“Fill me up, boy, come now!” you order him, wondering how you managed to form a whole sentence but when he obeys, emptying himself inside you, his seed stimulating your oversensitive prostate, you stop thinking at all and start to feel only.

It goes on and on for an eternity and when the breathtaking ecstasy slowly fades, you pull him down, craving to feel his body all over you, holding him close with your arms and your legs.

He buries his face on your throat and for a while, all you can hear is both of your racing heartbeats.

“I love you, Erik,” your boy finally whispers.

“I love you, too, Marco,” you whisper back.

You can feel him smile against your skin.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

_Epilogue:_

 

You lie there, watching your beloved Master sleep.

So many nights when it was the other way around, your Master lying awake, watching you sleep, worrying about you and holding you when you woke up from your nightmares, sick and feeling as if you were drowning in a cold and dark ocean.

But not tonight. Tonight, you will be the one watching his sleep.

Your Master was always there for you during these horrible long weeks, staying by your side in your darkest hours, your tower of strength and confidence. He was there, no matter what you threw at him in your depression, never being considerate of his own state.

Your Master gave you all of his own strength, healing you and you took all of it until he had nothing more to give. You owe him so much and yet he never wanted anything from you in return, because true love doesn't ask for getting something in return.

True love is a gift – the greatest gift of all.

You realized that when you had taken all of your Master's strength and held him while he cried in your arms, showing you his own weakness and trusting you that you wouldn't use the trust he showed you against him.

You didn't.

Instead, you realized that you could be as strong your Master is if you only believed in the power of love and, most of all, in yourself like he believed in you.

Together, you swam through the cold and dark ocean, not fearing to drown any longer, and together, you reached the shore. You stepped out of the cold water and into the warm sunshine, and together, you became strong again, stronger than before.

You reach out with your hand, tenderly brushing a soft strand out of his forehead. You are careful not to wake your wonderful Master up because you know that he needs his sleep.

Tonight, it is your turn to hold him and watch his sleep.

Tonight, you will let your own strength flow into him while you hold him, your deep love enclosing him and protecting him from nightmares and everything that could disturb his sleep. Your lips brush over his temple in a feather-like kiss and you smile when he sighs in his sleep, a small but happy sound.

“I wish you wonderful dreams, my beloved Master,” you whisper into the fragrant air, pulling him closer until his head is pillowed on your chest and the blankets over your heated bodies.

“Thank you for healing me with your strength, Erik, thank you for loving me.” you murmur, your love and gratitude audible in your quiet voice.

You close your eyes and fall asleep with a smile on your face while your strong and steady heartbeat soothes your Master in his peaceful slumber, granting him sweet and pleasant dreams.

When you both sleep, sound and safe, the tiny, dark-grey shadow resembling a capuchin monkey leaves the place where it was crouched on your back, hovering over your sleeping figure for one moment before finally becoming more and more transparent, fading, completely, until it's finally gone for good.

 

_The End of part 2  
_

 

**Thank you!**

 

Another finished WIP and I want to say thank you again, together with some things that occurred to me after some of your wonderful comments.

First of all: a million thanks to all of you for giving this very special story a try and sticking with Marco, Erik and me to the end. A million thanks for each and every kudos and comment you left under it or/and will leave after reading this last chapter. Your visible support under my Master And Boys-series means the world to me and I cherish and love each single comment and kudos more than you can even imagine.

When I started with GMWIN, it was meant as a one-shot with one chapter because I felt edgy and didn't want to go to the hairdresser and cut my hair like girls feeling edgy oftentimes do.

No joke, I can assure you that this was how it started.

But then, chapter 2 followed, chapter 3 and so on. When I wrote Marco's talk with Robert in chapter 5, I surely had no intention to make another fic out of this conversation, let alone another WIP with 6 chapters and more than 20.000 words.

If you, my dear Half_Fallen hadn't asked for it, I certainly hadn't even thought of writing it and even after your request, I hesitated at first. Now, I really have to thank you for making me write it and push all of my limits. Thank you. I do hope that you liked my gift-work for you.

I really would never have thought that so many of you would read it and that this story would hit the 1000 hits with only four chapters because I am very aware of what I demanded from you with this story: it deals with Marco's injury and him missing the world championship and I know from your comments that this is a very sore spot for a lot of you, my dear readers. Then, this story has depression as the main topic, eating disorders, the telling from the uncommon second POV and – last but not least – the Dom/sub-relationship as the cherry on top. This is really hard stuff and I didn't think that a lot of people would want to read it therefore.

Some of you told me that they only gave this story a try because I wrote it and I feel honored and blessed that you value my writing that highly, thank you so much for leaving your comfort zone and reading it.

I don't want to say too much to the eating disorder and the depression, only that my knowledge about depressions is bigger than I would like it to be, especially when it comes to Erik's part in it, although I also know Marco's side.

But, I do want to say a few things to the Dom/sub-part again, because I also heard that some of you read other stories about that topic before and had to gather some courage to try reading about it again. I do understand you and I know that this topic is afflicted with a mountain of prejudices as high as the Mount Everest.

I had to face them after starting with GMWIN, people telling me that Dom/sub is all about power-abuse, slavery and rape. They heard some things, took them for real and judged only because of those prejudices. The cherry on top was someone using some scenes of my series as a pattern and inspiration for a sex-scene written in their own story, asking me about my opinion and telling me that their scene had nothing to do with BDSM and Dom/sub and that they would never ever write something like that, but that they were very satisfied with this special scene... That's hypocrisy at its best and I have no understanding for that. It's always like that, people judge and loathe things they don't know, but, feel an almost morbid fascination for them.

Please, let me tell you that Dom/sub-dynamic has nothing to do with slavery, rape or abuse. It has nothing to do with the sub being weak and unworthy or the Dom being a selfish asshole wanting to overpower and rule. Nothing. This kind of relationship is based on love and respect and please, believe me that a lot of 'normal' relationships would work much better with this dynamic.

People wrinkle their noses about people living their lives this way, but don't wrinkle their noses when one partner oppresses and abuses his/her partner in a 'classical' relationship. That's stupid and arrogant in my opinion and hypocritical again.

At least 85% of the stories here in the football fandom are gay/lesbian stories. We all read or write them without thinking and without having problems admitting that. I do believe that most of you, my dear readers, don't live in a gay/lesbian relationship. Reading such stories won't make you gay/lesbian just like someone being homosexual won't become hetero by reading stories about heterosexual love.

Reading about Dom/sub-dynamic won't make you a sub or a Dom. Reading them is nothing one would have to be ashamed of. A lot of writers here have no problems with writing gay/lesbian stories (even though gay footballers have to face huge prejudices) but get upset by the thought of being asked to read or write a BDSM-story. Why?

I don't have own experiences with BDSM, I write my stories by instinct. I am a curious person and it all started in summer 2014 when my lovely beta-reader challenged my to write a spanking-scene into the gift for her. I mused for a while because after all, the one who should let himself be spanked is a tough Lt. Colonel of the US Air-Force, fighting against life-sucking aliens. (Stargate Atlantis)  
I couldn't resist, of course, I can never resist a challenge and it turned out to be much easier than I thought and it was fun to write.  
The next step was me musing about letting one of those life-sucking aliens submit to a strong human. Those of you who know Stargate Atlantis know that those aliens called Wraith are ruled by strong Queens (like bees) and that the males submit to their Queens by nature. Letting my Wraith submit to a human felt right somehow and was my first posted real BDSM-story.

This was it then for a while – until I didn't want to go to the hairdresser. And so here I am, having written a series about Dom/sub-dynamic with more than 100.000 words in less than half a year.

I am not ashamed of it, no matter what those stupid, narrow-minded people say, thinking of books like 'Fifty Shades Of Grey' and not of the real way of life. I didn't read that book, but, one thing I know for sure: it was only written to make money with it and not because the author wanted to write an honest book about this fascinating world. People buy it because of this morbid fascination they feel, but it won't help women to become free and self-confident like the author wants us to believe. Of course, I do some research and read a lot of well-written serious and honest stories about that topic and I can tell for sure that my own ones match with them good enough that they show what Dom/sub-dynamic actually is about.

I still don't know if my stories display this fascinating world always the right way, but, I do my very best and I can assure you that you don't have to be ashamed of reading them. Quite the opposite, you can be proud of yourself that you are open to learn more about things you didn't know before and that you are open-minded and willing to overcome prejudices and not judge people or different ways of life by rumors you have heard.

Love can never be wrong and never be a sin. Two grown ups living in a relationship based of love and respect don't have to be ashamed of their love, no matter whether they are heterosexual, homosexual, Doms, subs or of different age. (I am not talking about children, only about grown ups or older teenagers!) As long as it is consensual and no one is forced into anything, there is nothing wrong with them and their love.

There is far too little love in this world nowadays and we should cherish love, no matter in which form it appears. There is no love that would be better as another one, love is love, pure and simple.

So please, my dear readers, all of you who were open enough to read this story – and my rambling at the end of it – hold your heads up high and see love as what it is: the greatest gift of all and the most precious thing in this world.

I do hope that I will be able eradicate at least some of the prejudices against Dom/sub-relationships with my stories and I cannot thank you enough for being open-minded enough and reading them. There are a lot of bad stories using that tags, but are only an excuse to write about abuse, rape, rough sex or sex toys. Of course, some people live BDSM only during the sex, but, it still has nothing to do with abuse or non-consensual. Those stories will give you a false impression and I hope that the difference between mine and them is visible.

Thank you for bearing with me through this really demanding fic and for telling me your opinion and for your wonderful support I couldn't have finished it without your feedback.

You are the best! ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to send a huge thank you to my family again who let me write the last chapters undisturbed and to my dear friend GoFoGoals and her ongoing outstanding support and friendship.  
> Without you, I couldn't write stories like this and your friendship means more to me than I can tell you. Thank you for everything, my dear.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Keep The Door Open](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343541) by [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/pseuds/Janie94)




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